


this town of heroes and villains

by northernstarnavigator



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Bit of Fluff, Erased AU, Time Travel, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernstarnavigator/pseuds/northernstarnavigator
Summary: Orihara Izaya is dead. It’s all over. Shizuo should be happy.So why isn’t he?When Shizuo gets thrown back in time to his high school years, a second chance with Orihara Izaya might be simultaneously the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to him.





	1. only i am missing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Some of y’all have been asking about another Shizaya fic after reading my other one, so here it is. I’m really excited about this one, it’s been on my mind forever! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Main title is from Dima Lancaster’s “It’s Like a Tiny Bit of Light,” the English version of Erased anime’s ED. 
> 
> Chapter title is from the first song of Erased OST.

“Orihara Izaya is dead.”

It’s on the front page of every newspaper from Shinjuku to Yokohama to Fukuoka, and especially in Ikebukuro. Those who pay attention mostly remember the final fight, the one where the mighty information broker of Shinjuku was finally brought to his knees by none other than the strongest man in Ikebukuro. Those involved in the inner workings of Ikebukuro’s underground and nightlife activities- a certain sushi shop chef, a member of a certain yakuza, and many, many more- recall a sharp knife and an even sharper grin that betrayed none of the intricacies weaving together in the mind that was always twelve steps ahead of everyone else. Those who knew the man personally... well, those vary.

Shinra, for example, remembers the boy from middle school who turned the biology club into a gambling ring- who also happened to be the one who called an ambulance the moment Shinra was stabbed. He remembers the boy who only acted as he did to spare himself his fragile heart, and the man who held to that same philosophy, despite the awful acts of cruelty he committed against humanity for his own pleasure.

Celty remembers a man in a black coat, spinning around on the edge of a roof, and eyes that somehow glimpsed every secret she had even while knowing next to nothing about her. She remembers him as Shinra’s friend and Shizuo’s enemy.

As for Shizuo, he’s currently sitting with his boss in a coffee shop, crumpling the morning paper in his hands and seething with rage that should not be there at all because “The flea’s finally dead?!”

He pays no attention to the weird side-eye Tom’s giving him. “Yeah. They found him in his bathtub, which was full of water; I guess he forgot that he was in a wheelchair for a reason. But what’re you getting so worked up about? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“Only if I’m the one who got to kill him!”

Tom shushes him before any of the patrons can comment on it. “Keep your voice down, Shizuo. Anyway, there’s no point in going on about it. He’s already dead.”

Shizuo huffs, and goes back to staring at the two pictures they’ve stuck in the paper. He recognizes the grin in the first one, mostly because it’s the one that makes his blood boil and because he’s come face to face with that grin one million times too many. The second one... he has a hard time believing it’s Izaya. It’s a picture of the flea in the bathtub like Tom said, but there’s an expression on Izaya’s face that Shizuo’s never seen before. Even in death, his brow is wrinkled, but what gets Shizuo’s attention is that he looks sad.

Orihara Izaya. Sad. Impossible.

Shizuo scoffs to himself, once again ignoring Tom’s glance, and puts aside the paper to take a sip of his milkshake. “Yeah, well, that flea bastard didn’t deserve to go out so peacefully, after everything he did.”

Tom looks thoughtful, tugging at a lock of hair like he does every time he’s considering something. “I didn’t know Orihara like you did, so I won’t argue with you. All I’ll say is, Orihara was human too, despite what you and probably a lot of other people think.”

Izaya might have been human, Shizuo thinks irritably, but he was a difficult one, and one that deserved to wipe the face of the earth. But he’s not going to say that out loud to his boss and friend, so he just hums and drinks his milkshake. “So which client do I need to beat up today?”

”Oh!” Tom almost spills his coffee when he claps his hands. “His name is Sugiyama Junichi. He took his first loan when he went to college because he couldn’t pay the full tuition, and it kept accumulating from there...”

Shizuo nods and interjects with a hum whenever he thinks it necessary; he’s only half listening, because it’s Izaya’s face is clouding his mind. Not the one who he chases- chased, he reminds himself- around Ikebukuro, but the one whose face was captured in a photograph only hours after death.

It’s impossible for Izaya to be sad, it just is in the same way that fleas cannot be sad- because they don’t know what sadness is. And all Izaya’s ever known is victory upon victory at getting what he wants from the human race, so the thing Shizuo doesn’t understand is, why was he so sad at the moment of his death?

More importantly, why is he even thinking about it? The flea’s dead, and that’s that.

So he turns his full attention to what Tom’s saying, not realizing he’s already finished his milkshake until he feels air enter his straw instead of milkshake.

“Shizuo?” Tom sounds confused now. “Are you okay? Would you like another milkshake?”

Shizuo waves the offer off. “No thanks, I’m good.”

”Sure. But hey, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” Tom pauses and scrutinizes Shizuo in such a way that Shizuo just knows he’s getting into one of his oddly introspective moments. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Yes, is the right answer. No, is an appropriate answer. And Shizuo doesn’t know which one to say.

Orihara Izaya is dead. It’s all over. Shizuo should be happy.

So why isn’t he?

 

 

That question stays on Shizuo’s mind- even after the workday of collecting debts is over, even after paying a visit to Akane and Vorona and Simon in Russia Sushi, even after visiting Kasuka and finding out about his plans to propose to Ruri. He thinks about asking Tom about it- he’d know more about that, after all- but in the end opts not to, especially since Tom’s in such a good mood. “Man, today was a good day!”

Shizuo agrees- days like this where they collect debts without Shizuo uprooting a sign or throwing some guy out the window, or without trouble in general, are rare- but he can’t find it in himself to say anything beyond, “Yeah.”

Tom links his arms behind his head and opens one eye to look at him. “You okay, Shizuo? You’ve been acting weird the entire day.”

”... Well, my brother’s getting married.” 

Why that’s the first excuse Shizuo thinks of, he has no idea, but it does the trick; Tom’s eyes light up. “Kasuka-san? With Ruri-san?”

”Mm.”

”That’s awesome, Shizuo; they’re so good for each other. You must be a pretty proud brother, huh? Here.” Tom claps him on the back. “Take the rest of the day off. You’ve worked hard today, and this is cause for celebrating.”

”Thank you, Tom-san.” 

“Nah, don’t mention it.” Tom waves as he walks off. “Tell your brother I said congratulations!”

As Shizuo waves his boss off before he turns around and walks home, he thinks he can do that... if he can actually think about doing it.

But today, his mind doesn’t seem to plan on being set on anything other than Orihara Izaya, so his walk home consists of him clenching his fists in annoyance and trying not to smash in the face of anyone who so much looks at him the wrong way while also trying to keep himself from uprooting a pole. “Damn flea, even in death won’t leave me alone. Argh!”

He kicks a pebble, but it doesn’t bring him any satisfaction; it just rolls to the feet of... oh, great-

“Shizu-o!”

Shizuo doesn’t even remember telling himself to come here, but now that he’s in front of Russia Sushi, what can he do? Besides, it doesn’t seem like Simon plans on letting him go anytime soon, so he trudges over. “Hey, Simon.”

The Russian looks down on him, his face twisting into some kind of a frown. “Oh, that expression no good, Shizu-o. Your expression has no happiness; where has it gone? Eat sushi. Sushi good. Sushi restore your happiness.”

If he’s being honest, Simon kind of sounds like that green character he saw on an American movie once- what was it called, Star Battle? Galaxy Wars? Something like that. But he hasn’t eaten anything except the milkshake in the morning, and he’s been meaning to eat here for a while now. “Sure.”

”Good, good, good,” Simon replies, ushering him inside with the excitement of a toddler. “Be happy, Shizu-o. Izaya not bothering you anymore.”

”So you know?” Shizuo asks, sitting down while Denis sets down a tray of unagi nigiri.

Simon’s joy at receiving a customer quickly dissolves into a mournful expression. “Oh, Izaya,” he exclaims, clapping his hands together in distress and shaking his head. “Izaya gone; so sad. No enjoy sushi anymore. Very sad.”

”’Sad’?” Shizuo echoes, just as he picks up a piece of nigiri. “That flea bastard caused so much trouble here, and you say it’s _sad_  that he’s gone?”

”Shizu-o.” Simon’s dropped all theatrics now, because his eyes (that seem to know too much) bore into Shizuo’s with an intensity that surprises him. “Izaya not a bad man. Things he did, very bad. But he not a bad man.”

”Huh.” Shizuo swallows the sushi in his mouth. “So what man is he, then?”

”Lost,” Simon says simply, and Shizuo’s chopsticks clatter on the table. “Izaya lost, because he has no guide. He is child lost in life, and he is man lost in victory... now lost in death, too.”

Simon adjusts the sushi tray that Shizuo must have accidentally whacked in his surprise, still holding his gaze. “Izaya is lost man, but he is never bad man.”

Denis comes then, and calls Simon to quit chatting with customers when there’s work to be done and there are still flyers to hand out, _Semyon_. Simon waves off his friend, his expression suddenly so bright that Shizuo finds it difficult to believe that this is the same man who was just grieving for Izaya not two minutes ago. “Eat sushi, Shizu-o, sushi good. Be happy.”

Then he disappears out the curtain, and it’s Denis’s turn to pop his head in. “Simon’s right, you know. Izaya wasn’t a bad man at all.”

Shizuo would like to respectfully disagree, because Izaya is not a bad man, he is an _awful_  one, for manipulating the yakuza and gangs to react the way he wants them to just out of sheer boredom, for playing with humans like they’re his puppets, for ruining lives in general, and has he said that Izaya was an asshole yet? “Well, you all knew him better than I did, for sure. But to me... he’s ninety-nine percent horrible. But I can’t believe in that one percent.”

Denis nods. “Izaya makes it easy for people to think that way. But, well, when you’ve seen him drag himself in here drunk or injured or crying, you start to change your opinion of him.”

Shizuo can safely say that he’s never seen Izaya drunk _or_  crying, since apparently that’s possible. But then he has to admit that he does not know Izaya as well as he thought he did. “Well, I still hate him.”

”Hate him, love him, neither matter anymore because he’s dead. He died a lost man,” Denis says as he begins to clear the tray. “Perhaps if someone had been willing to truly understand him when he was young, if he could have had someone trustworthy to rely on... maybe things would have been different.”

It’s only thirty minutes later, when Simon pokes his head back in and says, “Oh! Shizu-o still here!”, that he finally replies with a “Maybe” that turns Simon’s surprise to confusion before the Russian shakes his head and states that it’s closing time.

After thanking both Russians, Shizuo walks out into the nightlife of Ikebukuro, but he doesn’t start the walk home until he has a cigarette in his mouth. 

He needs it, after what people have been telling him all day.

_All I’ll say is, Orihara was human too._

_Izaya is lost man, but he is never bad man._

_Perhaps if someone had been willing to truly understand him when he was young, if he could have had someone trustworthy to rely on... maybe things would have been different_.

”Huh,” Shizuo says out loud, blue smoke and irritation eating at the edge of his voice. “With that flea? Doubt it.”

The answer stays with him for the rest of the walk home.


	2. time after time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water more than wakes him up, to the reality that Izaya is dead and to the reality that this is not his room.
> 
> Well, actually... it is his room, but not his room in the cheap Ikebukuro apartment he lives in. This is his room, in his parents’ house- complete with his comic books and desk and posters and everything.

Shizuo startles awake from the remnants of his dream (his fist reconnecting with Izaya’s jaw, his wrists; that voice saying those words, “ _Do it, you monster_ ”; Izaya somehow laying dead in the bathtub and staring at him from the corner of his room, with dark circles under his eyes and a lost expression on his face, and saying, “You did this, Shizu-chan. You did this to me!”), and reaches for the glass of water he always keeps by his bed to throw the liquid on his face.

The water more than wakes him up, to the reality that Izaya is dead and to the reality that this is not his room.

Well, actually... it _is_ his room, but not his room in the cheap Ikebukuro apartment he lives in. This is his room, in his _parents_ ’ house- complete with his comic books and desk and posters and everything.

_What is going on?_

_When did I even get here_?

Why _am I even here_?

Shizuo blinks again; it feels completely normal. For a moment, he’s convinced that he’s in some kind of a lucid dream, and so he turns on his pillow to try and go back to sleep. And that’s when he sees the time: 7:40 AM.

What on earth is he doing, being awake at 7:40 in the morning?! This entire situation is ridiculous; Tom never calls him to be at work until about nine. So why is he awake?!

His thoughts fly apart with the knock at his door. “Nii-san, it’s time to get up.”

Kasuka?

Shizuo practically flies out of his bed, hits the ground running, and swings the door open- yes, it’s Kasuka, but younger. Much younger. “Kasuka? What- aren’t you supposed be with Ruri?”

Kasuka’s expression is as impassive as ever, but it’s only because Shizuo’s spent nearly twenty years living with him that he sees the flicker of confusion in his brother’s eyes. “I... don’t know anyone named ‘Ruri,’ Nii-san. Are you sure you’re sleeping well?”

”What do you me- look.” Shizuo sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, you have work. You have work today, right? With that American dude, what’s his face, Max?”

Kasuka’s visibly confused now.

 _He doesn’t know_ , Shizuo realizes, as his hand falls away from the doorknob. _He doesn’t know who Ruri is, he’s so young now, he doesn’t know Ruri..._

_**What is going on???!!!** _

Shizuo mutters that question to himself the entire time he’s putting his uniform on- because apparently, he’s starting high school today (dammit)- and he’s still muttering that to himself when he walks into the kitchen, only to stop short.

”Shizuo? What’s wrong?”

That’s his mom. His mom is standing at the stove, wearing that same baby blue apron Shizuo remembers so well, with streaks of gray in her hair, with her head tilted and asking if he’s okay. His mom is standing at the stove and she’s... she’s...

Shizuo doesn’t remember crossing the kitchen, but his arms are suddenly around his mom as his heart lurches for the compassion it’s never felt in years, and he only remembers to tone down his strength in time not to crush her with the hug. He can’t believe it, he thinks as he buries his face into her shoulder, his mom’s here. His mom’s here, and she’s alive, and she loves him-

“Oya, oya, Shizuo,” and Shizuo’s forgotten how much he misses the sound of his mother’s laughter as she playfully swats him with the ladle she’s holding. “You already miss your _oka-san_ that much? You haven’t even left the house yet.”

”Nii-san was acting strangely from the moment he woke up, _ka-san_ ,” Kasuka affirms, walking in with his school bag before sitting down at the table. “I don’t think he’s been sleeping well.”

”Ah? Ne, Shizuo, what do I keep telling you? I say, “don’t drink tea before bed”, you say, “I’ll be okay, _ka-san_...”

She’s still rambling when she sets down the rice and miso soup, followed by pickled daikon and grilled nori probably leftover from the night before. She only stops when she brings the kettle of hot green tea over and sets it down, ruffling Shizuo’s hair with a fondness that makes his heart twinge. “My firstborn boy, entering high school at Raijin Academy (it takes Shizuo a moment to realize that she’s talking about present-day Raira). And my little one, beginning fifth grade. I’m so proud of you both.”

As fast as she gushes, she stops as she looks at the clock. “Eat, eat, Shizuo, you’ll be late for your first day! Do you have all your things gathered?”

Shizuo remembers his manners in time to not talk with food in his mouth, so he nods instead; he’d seen a bag nearly stuffed in the corner of his room when he was getting ready. As it is, he’d rather nod instead, because the food is delicious. He wonders vaguely how he had forgotten this so easily.

“Ah, good, good.”

Thanks to Kasuka’s incessant glancing at the clock, Shizuo finishes his meal in less than ten minutes and brings his dishes over to the sink. His mother waves him off with a dishcloth. “No, no, you head onto school, Shizuo.“

”Okay.” In a sudden impulse, he hugs his mom again. How could I have forgotten you? “I love you, _ka-san_.”

“I love you very much too, Shizuo,” his mom embraces him with an arm, before letting him go and giving a small push to his back, “but Raijin, yes?”

“Bye, Nii-san.” Kasuka raises his hand in a farewell.

Shizuo nods at them both before he runs to his room, grabs his bag, and runs out of their small apartment to catch the bus on time- all the while, his mind is whirling. It’s a dream, it has to be.

But the food he’s just eaten is still warm in his stomach, and the bag in his hand feel too real to be a dream. The smell of sakura blossoms from his mom’s favorite shampoo had smelled too real to a product of a dream, and that goes for her hugs as well. Even the bus he’s riding on is too solid for something that is supposed to be a figment of his imagination. It’s not a dream.

Shizuo has so many questions. But because he has no one to ask, he’ll do what he always does when he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place- he’ll keep moving, and see how it plays out.

 

 

“Hey, Shizuo-kun!”

Shizuo grimaces, almost forgetting that Shinra’s here too. He’d like to just walk away and pretend he doesn’t know Shinra, but a) that would be rude, and b) Shinra’s sort of his friend. So he just waits for the insane doctor- future doctor- to keep almost falling and get to him. “Hey, Shinra.”

”He-oooiiii!” Shinra quickly scrambles away from where another student really runs him over with a bike, and at least makes it to him. “Hey, Shizuo-kun! Break any bones recently?”

”I’m gonna if you don’t shut up,” Shizuo threatens as he throws a half-hearted punch at the newcomer. “I swear, if you came all the way here just to bother me-”

Shinra ducks, laughing as he adjusts his glasses and throws up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, Shizuo-kun. I did actually come here for a reason, though, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

There’s a tickling of deja vu at the back of Shizuo’s mind, but try as he might, he can’t figure out why this situation seems so familiar. So, as he shifts his bag and starts making his way towards the dorms, he settles for, “Who, your imaginary girlfriend?”

An over dramatic gasp. “How could you assume such a thing?! You’re lucky my Celty isn’t here, or she’d be heartbroken! Aw, my sweet, beautiful Celty, the sun to my moon, the stars hanging in the night sky-”

”Shinra.”

“Right, sorry! Anyway, he’s... well, he’s kind of an awful person, but he’s pretty lonely.”

”What makes you think I wanna be friends with a lonely asshole?!”

”Ah, but I never said he was an asshole. But you’re right, he is.”

”That’s really mean, Shinra.”

It’s only the fact that Shizuo realizes that the voice belongs to neither himself nor Shinra, that he makes the effort to turn around. Immediately he freezes, that familiar pulsing rage thrumming in his veins as he looks into the eyes of the person who started it all, his blood roaring so loud in his ears he doesn’t realize he’s dropped his bag.

”Shizuo,” Shinra says, oblivious to the murderous intent radiating off of Shizuo in waves, “this is the asshole I was telling you about, Orihara Izaya. Izaya, this is my friend, Shizuo.”

”Oh, he knows,” Shizuo growls, the barest bit of satisfaction springing free in his chest as the flea bastard’s smirk falters a little in confusion. “He knows exactly who I am, don’t you, _I-za-ya-kun_?”

Izaya laughs a little, though it sounds more forced than anything, and Shizuo completely misses the way the flea looks at Shinra for a moment. “Shinra... I’ve never met this guy in my life.”

”Don’t you dare lie, you flea bastard!”

”Shizuo-kun, hang on a second! Put him down! Put him down, okay?”

 _Put him down?_ Shizuo’s nose wrinkles in confusion. _Why should I put him down if I’m not even... oh._  

Somewhere along the line, he had lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Izaya’s collar; Izaya’s currently suspended in the air only by Shizuo’s hold on his collar, staring at him with a mix of bewilderment and excitement on his face. _Tch. The flea doesn’t even know me, and he’s still smirking like that._

 _... Wait, the flea doesn’t know me_.

Suddenly the whole morning comes back to him- a younger version of Kasuka, his mother, his room- and it suddenly makes sense.

Shizuo flings Izaya a short distance away, not checking to see if he’s landed on his feet or not, and grabs his bag to stomp off to the quad, his fury increasing with every step as he tries his best to check the facts.

#1: Orihara Izaya should be dead.

#2: He’s not.

#3: Shizuo’s stuck in his first year of high school when he should be working with Tom, should be getting play dates with Akane, should be getting ready to attend Kasuka’s wedding.

#4: He has no idea how to get back there.

No. This is not happening. _No. No. No. NO_. “ **Nooooooo!** ”

And within his rage, in the recesses of his mind, he hears a voice, the same one that had forgotten haunted his dreams.

 _“Heiwajima Shizuo has been sent back to fulfill the mission of saving Orihara Izaya_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oka-san is “mother” in Japanese, but the socially acceptable abbreviated form is “ka-san.”


	3. should i choose to accept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annoyance thrums under his skin as he realizes he’s starting to understand what they mean, and he releases a “Tch”, ignoring Shinra’s confused glance, as he recounts the things he knows.
> 
> #1: Orihara Izaya is alive.
> 
> #2: He’s still an asshole.
> 
> #3: ... This is his own second chance, as well.

_“Heiwajima Shizuo has been sent back to fulfill the mission of saving Orihara Izaya.”_

_I’ve been sent back to save the flea?!_  Shizuo smashes his fist into the floor again with another growl of rage. _Bullshit!_

Some rational part of his mind registers that he’s pummeling the ground, but in his mind’s eye he can only see Izaya- the stupid smirk that he aches to punch off only makes his blood boil over as his punches to the ground increase in speed and force. 

_That damned flea bastard... that damned Orihara Izaya always messing up my life even when he doesn’t know me!_

At this point, he’s sure he’s punched the ground behind recognition, and faintly wonders if he’s managed to hit the groundsoil yet.

_That stupid Izaya thinking he has a second chance after everything he’s done!_

Izaya doesn't deserve a second chance, not after everything he’s put Ikebukuro through, and certainly not after everything he’s put Shizuo’s friends through. What law of the universe states that a man who’s manipulated innocent civilians for the sake of his own pleasure is worthy of getting another chance to right his wrongs? None that Shizuo knows, and none that he cares about. Izaya can rot for all he cares; he’s a lost cause anyway, and that’s adding onto the facts that Shizuo has no idea what he’s destined to save him from and that Shizuo _doesn’t want to save him_.

_He should have stayed dead!_

“Shizuo-kun!” He dimly wonders if he’s underwater; then it would make sense why the voice calling to him sounds as sluggish as it does. “Shizuo-kun, you need to stop!”

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he spins around with a roar- only to miraculously halt his fist two inches away from Shinra’s face. His friend is wearing a rare look of concern as his gaze drops to Shizuo’s hands. “Gah, how much strength do you have, Shizuo-kun?! I can barely tell that your hands are actually hands!”

Shizuo doesn’t quite realize what Shinra’s talking about until he looks down over his friend’s request and realizes that _yes. it’s actually pretty bad_. 

For one thing, apparently he’s punched the ground to the point where the skin on his knuckles has started to tear, and some of it’s hanging off his hand in flaps. For another, his hands are completely soaked in blood, which makes sense considering that Shizuo completely forgot he was punching concrete- and tough concrete at that. Still, he doesn’t feel any pain, and so he just blinks as Shinra sighs. “You’re just lucky you didn’t bust your knuckles, they’d literally take forever to heal and it’s a pretty painful process. Hey, Orihara-kun!”

 _Bastard’s still here, huh_ , Shizuo seethes as he takes in the flea, who’s standing ten feet away. There’s an odd mixture of fascination and shock on his face, but the part that brings Shizuo the most satisfaction is the look of slight fear in his eyes. It also makes him feel the tiniest bit of guilt, though he doesn’t want to admit it, because a) his life mission isn’t to scare people with his strength, not even the flea, and b) he’s forgotten that Izaya, and by extension himself, is only fourteen in this timeline.

 _Still doesn’t deserve to be saved_ , Shizuo vehemently reminds himself as Shinra beckons Izaya over. “Look, I know neither of you like each other, I need you to take him to the bathroom and help him clean his hands off.”

The look on Izaya’s face fades to wariness. “Ah, no, Shinra. He can do it himself.”

”Not with his hands in _that_ state, he can’t,” Shinra points out, irritation flickering across his features briefly before he sighs. “Orihara-kun, I know you don’t buy into the whole Good Samaritan ideal or whatever, but I can’t do it because I need to grab my medical kit from the dorm.”

”Get someone else.”

”Does it look like anyone else is going to?”

Looking at the students that are either making a wide berth around them or watching them with wide eyes from a distance, Shizuo admits that Shinra has a good point. 

Izaya apparently does as well, because he lets out a long suffering sigh that only grates on Shizuo’s nerves; if there’s anyone who gets to do that sigh, it’s himself, for all the years he’s had to deal with that annoying louse. “... Fine. Come on, Shizuo.”

”Don’t call me by that name.”

”Fine, then, come on, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo would like nothing better than wiping the look of utter indifference off of that flea’s face, busted hands or not, but he does actually want to use his hands again in the near future. So he attempts to expel his rage in a growl. “Don’t call me that either, flea.”

”I’ll call you what I want,” comes Izaya’s equally annoyed answer as he barges through the restroom door. He doesn’t hold it open, which means Shizuo has to hold it open with his shoulder with a string of colorful curses as he tries to make it through without the door closing on him. _He’s even more annoying in this timeline_.

Izaya’s already leaning against the bathroom wall, an eyebrow arched as he waits for Shizuo to place his hands under running water to clean the blood off; it ticks Shizuo off, and he shoves his hands under the water before the urge to punch Izaya to the moon and back increases.

Hw immediately regrets it, because he’s forgotten that the faucets at Raijin had the same force as a water hose; that pressure on his already torn up hands stings tenfold, and a low hiss escapes him before he can stop it.

A blur of movement to the side catches his attention; before he knows it, Izaya’s hands are joining his under the water and they’re rubbing his torn up knuckles and “What the hell, flea, that hurts!”

”Then don’t go around punching the concrete, you stupid protozoan.”

”I’m not stupid!”

”Oh, Shizu-chan.” Shizuo swears, once his hands heal, he is going to wipe that infuriating smirk off of Izaya’s face because that sympathetic tone and the pout don’t tell him anything other than the fact that Izaya is mocking him. “ _Izaya-kuuun_.”

Izaya, of course, doesn’t pay attention, but there’s a furrow in his brow; it takes Shizuo a while to understand that it’s because Izaya seems really intent on cleaning the blood off his hands as much as he can, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Ugh, the blood’s solidifying already. Really, Shizu-chan, there’s something called moderation, you know?”

”I don’t want to hear that from the likes of  _you_.”

“The likes of me?” The furrow in Izaya’s brow deepens. “Whatever do you mean? I’m a joy to be around.”

As Izaya’s hand rubs at a particularly sore spot on the back of Shizuo’s hand, white hot pain thrums under Shizuo’s skin and he pulls his hand away as if burned. “Joy, my ass.”

”Well, if you insist.”

Shizuo needs to stop underestimating the depths of his rage, because what should have been a harmless wink from the flea makes the face of his timeline’s Izaya flash through his head- the picture is always that irritating, stupid, smug grin, and it makes Shizuo _sick_. 

In one motion, he yanks his hands out of the sink and knocks Izaya against the wall with an arm against his throat, his vision flickering between red and white. “Whatever sick game you’re trying to play, end it- now. I know you, Izaya, and this isn’t going to end pretty if you don’t.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow just the tiniest bit; otherwise he looks way too comfortable with Shizuo a word from snapping and killing him right there. “What part of ‘we’ve never met before today’ escapes your understanding, Shizu-chan? You can’t possibly know me.”

“Is that right? Then I’ll prove it to you. You’re a regular at Russia Sushi. You have two younger sisters, Mairu and Kururi, who both are obsessed with the actor Hanejima Yuuhei. You’re afraid of dogs. You hate the eyes of dead fish. You-”

Something sharp presses against his jugular, cutting him off short; it’s the flip blade Shizuo recognizes as Izaya’s favorite, because he’s seen it on more than one chase throughout Ikebukuro. “Heh. Scared now, Izaya?”

”Hardly,” Izaya bites out with equal venom. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly how you know all of this?”

Now that Shizuo thinks about it, he’s never seen Izaya this angry before- annoyed, sure, but never angry. His eyes have darkened to the point of being almost black, and his grip on his knife is steady; that should have been all there is to it. But because Shizuo’s learned to read Izaya’s micro expressions, because even annoying fleas have those, he knows that when Izaya gets angry, he’s actually scared. ”Believe me now, flea?”

”Answer the damn question,” Izaya growls as the knife presses harder against Shizuo’s neck, “or I won’t hesitate.”

”Then you won’t know how I know.”

Izaya scoffs, every bit as bitter as the hard look in his eyes, and Shizuo can’t help but grin- it’s satisfying to be in reversed positions for once. “I win, Izaya.”

”You bastard-!”

The restroom door opens; the bag hanging from Shinra’s grip clinks as he curiously looks between them. With an arm against Izaya’s neck and a knife at his own neck, Shizuo can only imagine the picture they make. “... Am I interrupting something?”

”No,” he assures just as Izaya yells, “Yes!”

Shinra looks between the two of them before he shrugs and begins to root through his medical bag. “Well, you two can finish this later. Right now, we’ve got to wrap Shizuo-kun’s hands up.”

”No, _you’re_  wrapping his hands up.” The pressure at Shizuo’s throat disappears as Izaya flips the blade shut, stuffs it into his pocket, and storms past the two of them. “I’m going to class.”

The door shuts with a loud bang, and Shinra looks at Shizuo curiously. “I’ve never seen him that mad before. What’d you do?”

Shizuo only shrugs- partly because now his hands are throbbing, but mainly because he’s still hung on Izaya’s odd behavior just now- but he stills when voices come unbidden into his head.

_Orihara was human too._

_Izaya is lost man, but he is never bad man._

_Perhaps if someone had been willing to truly understand him when he was young, if he could have had someone trustworthy to rely on... maybe things would have been different_.

Annoyance thrums under his skin as he realizes he’s starting to understand what they mean, and he releases a “Tch”, ignoring Shinra’s confused glance, as he recounts the things he knows.

#1: Orihara Izaya is alive.

#2: He’s still an asshole.

#3: ... This is his own second chance, as well.

He doesn’t want to, and would rather not, save Izaya from whatever it is that he’s supposed to be saving him from, but if it means Ikebukuro will be peaceful, if it means his friends will be okay, if it means that once he gets back to his own timeline- if he gets back- things will be a good kind of different... 

Izaya’s face flashes before his eyes, and his choice is made.

 _Fine, I’ll save him- I’ll save the blasted flea. But the second things go south, I’m leaving him to rot_.


	4. 99 problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya had always, always chased after him looking for a fight until it was Shizuo’s turn to chase that annoying pest through the streets of Ikebukuro. To think that that very same Izaya is actively avoiding him... obviously the situation must be normalized at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I’m glad you all are enjoying this story so far! This chapter’s pretty short because I’m leaving for DC in three hours, and I wanted to give you another chapter before I left. I’m coming back Sunday afternoon, our time. Enjoy!

Shizuo’s forgotten how easily Izaya can avoid someone if he wants to.

It’s been a week since their interaction in the bathroom- a week since he’s been stuck in this timeline that he’s decided to call _bizarro_  and a week since he’s made what’s quite possibly the worst choice in his life- and he’s yet to see Izaya around Raijin, or anywhere.

“Oi, Shinra,” he finally asks during one of their lunch breaks on the roof, “where the hell is the flea?”

Shinra looks up from where he’s been shoveling rice into his mouth, his brow wrinkling in confusion. ”’Flea’? Oh, you mean Orihara-kun.”

”Who else would I name after a pest that doesn’t leave people alone? And answer my question, Kishitani.”

”Oi, don’t lump me in with my dad, okay?” Shinra huffs as he adjusts his glasses after swallowing his food. “Well... he could be anywhere, actually. You could try the biology classroom or the library, but if Orihara-kun doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found.”

Shizuo knows that, but at the same time... it’s so hard to believe because from what he remembers, Izaya had always, _always_  chased after him looking for a fight until it was Shizuo’s turn to chase that annoying pest through the streets of Ikebukuro. To think that _that very same Izaya_  is actively avoiding him... obviously the situation must be normalized at once.

That’s why he finds himself wandering the halls of the library, a place he would normally never go to because books just don’t hold interest for him. It’s a massive library, appropriate for Raijin’s prestigious status, and that’s the reason Shizuo doesn’t initially see Izaya sitting behind a bookshelf until his mind registers a flash of red that’s very different from the mahogany of the shelves and he doubles back. 

It’s strange, seeing Izaya like this, asleep with a psychology textbook in his lap. A closer look indicates that he’s on page 212, and Shizuo is not surprised at all to find that the flea’s already read halfway through the book- probably because he’s seen Kasuka fall asleep many, many times with a book on his lap as well. So, either because his mind is confusing Izaya and Kasuka together or because he’s an idiot, he reaches out to close the textbook. 

Immediately Izaya’s eyes fly open, and it’s probably only because they are in the library and within a teacher’s eyesight that Shizuo doesn’t have a blade against his throat. He draws back his hand slowly, watching Izaya’s eyes follow the movement, before they turn to regard him with a wary look. “What are you doing here, Shizu-chan? I didn’t know monsters liked books.”

 _Monster_. Shizuo’s jaw tenses as he counts to ten in his head to avoid making an Izaya-shaped pancake in the library; that’s just ruin the aesthetic. “Looking for you.”

Izaya’s brow furrows in confusion before they smooth over. “Well, great, you found me. Now can you go?”

”I could.”

Now Shizuo can kind of understand why Izaya loves trolling people so much; it brings a weird kind of satisfaction to see Izaya’s eye twitch in annoyance as he lets out a huge sigh. “Protozoan, when people ask you if you can go, the correct answer is actually leaving.”

”Heiwajima Shizuo.”

”What?”

Part of Shizuo feels tempted to tear out his hair in disbelief because it’s not like he has to reintroduce himself to Izaya when Shinra’s already done it for him, and another part is screaming at him for trying to make friends- _ugh_ \- with the flea when clearly he’s a lost cause. But the promise he made a week ago keeps on haunting the back of his mind, even now, and a still sleepy-looking Izaya trying to act tough is a stark reminder of it. “I’m Heiwajima Shizuo. Nice to meet you.”

Izaya stares at his outstretched hand for several seconds before his gaze shifts to Shizuo’s face. “...?”

”C’mon, flea,” Shizuo finally snaps after what an eternity of Izaya staring at him. “I’m trying to start over, here. You could help out a little.”

He expects mockery disguised as a laugh, or a statement about _idiot protozoan monsters_  as Izaya gets up and leaves. He does not expect Izaya’s hand to meet his own, or Izaya to say, albeit hesitantly, “... Orihara Izaya. Nice to meet you”- or something to that degree. Shizuo really doesn’t know, because they’re close enough that all he’s paying attention to is a sliver of gold in Izaya’s brown irises and a faint birthmark the shape of a crescent moon right next to the flea’s right eye. _Huh. Interesting._

Naturally, he doesn’t realize that he’s doing so until Izaya’s cough breaks through his reverie. “Ne, Shizu-chan, personal space bubbles exist for a reason, you know.”

Belatedly he realizes that at some point, he’s leaned in, presumably to get a better glimpse of the birthmark, until there’s only a few inches between him and Izaya- which means that he’s close enough to headbutt Izaya.

Although he feels tempted to, he doesn’t, because that’d just ruin the whole point of restarting with Izaya, of his frankly ridiculous decision a week ago. He just backs up, thumbs in his pant pockets, and rocks on his feet awkwardly- in his defense, who _wouldn’t_ feel awkward after finding your face only inches away from the face of your self-proclaimed nemesis? “... Well,” he says to break the sudden silence. “See you around.”

 Izaya blinks, his mouth opens, and that’s all Shizuo allows himself to see before he pivots on his heel and makes a beeline for the library exit, the tips of his ears burning as he mutters the familiar mantra of _killlkillkillkillkillkill_  under his breath. That damn pest, always throwing him off even when he’s not trying. That stupid flea, needing to be in every single one of Shizuo’s timelines and making his life a mess. Bastard Izaya, with his knife and annoying grin and stupidly pretty birthmark, and his hands trying to freeze Shizuo’s with how cold they are... Shizuo could go on and on.

_Why did I agree to save him again?_


	5. confessions of a confused frenemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
> 
> ”Sure.”
> 
> “What’s the deal with you and Orihara-kun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I’m back with another update; I really hope y’all are enjoying this story so far.

Whatever thoughts Shizuo has about the previous week’s awkwardness vanish in the midst of the next week; not only is it awkward, but it’s also probably the most confusing week in his life.

He doesn’t see Izaya that much since they’re in different home room classes, but from whatever glimpses he gets of the flea, it seems that Izaya’s initial loathing has increased to a level he can’t even fathom. Actually, Shizuo’s not even sure if loathing is the right word to describe how Izaya feels about him, because every time they see each other, Izaya’s reaction is one of two things- either a scoff in his direction while walking away briskly, or averting his gaze with a blush that looks so, so weird on him. 

And there’s also the fact that Shizuo has no idea what he’s saving Izaya from. As far as he knows, in the original timeline there wasn’t anyone after Izaya, certainly not anyone of the yakuza or the government. He’s aware that tons of people hate Izaya- and he wonders _why_ \- but they won’t dare go up against Izaya if they know better. And in this timeline, he’s only fourteen. There’s not a whole lot he can do even if he ends up needing to save Izaya from the government.

“Shizuo-kun?”

Shizuo jolts back to the present, which is staring at his school bento before looking up at a very quizzical-looking Shinra. _Right. I’m on the field having lunch with Shinra._ To outsiders, he’d only look confused, but Shizuo can already see the qualities of the future underground doctor- sharp eyes behind glasses, mouth set in a straight line, his head tilted to one side like he’s trying to read Shizuo. He honestly wouldn’t be supposed if this is the case right now. “What?”

”Oh, you were spacing out. I guess this means you didn’t notice you were having a staring contest with your soup?” Shinra shakes himself out of his stupor and folds his hands together. “Is everything okay?”

”Yeah.” To prove it, Shizuo shoves a wad of rice and meat into his mouth. “M’fine.”

Shinra looks like he wants to give Shizuo a lecture on eating with his mouth full, but lets it go with a sigh. “Ah, if I did that in front of Celty, she’d be so disappointed in me. Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

”Sure.”

“What’s the deal with you and Orihara-kun?”

Shizuo slams a hand over his mouth in time to not spit anything out, but he can’t stop the choke that makes him sound like he’s dying. As a result, everyone on their side of the field turns to look at him- he stares at those who don’t look away immediately until they do, and then he answers Shinra’s question. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

”What’s the deal with you and Orihara-kun?” Shinra repeats slowly, like he’s talking to a child. “Seriously, from the way you acted towards him on the first day of school, I thought you’d be chasing him like a madman every time you see him. Instead we have awkward glances, mixed reactions, mutual pining, mutual desires to kill the other, and did I mention the awkward glances?”

“Quit making it sound like I like him, Shinra.” Shizuo moves to take a sip of his water, then stops at the face Shinra’s making. “Oi, don’t get any ideas.”

”Shizuo-kun,” Shinra says sweetly, “ _do_  you like Orihara-kun?”

Shizuo is so glad he didn’t drink anything, or else he’s fairly sure he’d be spitting it out right about now. Him? Like _Izaya_? ”What kind of question is that?!”

”It’s okay if you do. I mean, he can be nice when he wants to be, he’s pretty smart, and he’s not bad-looking either.”

”Shinra-”

”What? You think he’s bad-looking?”

”Don’t say shitty things like this!” Shizuo hisses, glancing around in case anyone’s eavesdropping on their so-called private discussion. As it is, his eyes just happen to land on Izaya, sitting about ten yards away, who’s somehow balancing yet another book on one knees and his school bento on the other. Shizuo takes a moment- a _very_  brief moment- to appreciate the way Izaya’s hair falls over his eyes, contrasting with his skin in a way that might be considered conventionally attractive, and the gracefulness of his hand movements as he flips a page while bringing chopsticks to his mouth before enough is enough, and Shizuo turns back to Shinra, who’s regarding him with an amused look. “What now, Shinra?”

”No need to sound so defensive; I saw you checking him out. So what about it?” Shinra props his head on one hand, eyes gleaming. “Do you like him?”

”Don’t use me to fulfill your teenage doujinshi fantasies,” Shizuo snaps at the same time that his heart flips over in something way too close to agreement. He looks back again, just to check that Izaya isn’t looking- he is. The moment their eyes meet, Shizuo swears he sees a little surprise cross Izaya’s features before they settle into a mild curiosity. It catches him off guard enough that he finds himself glaring at the flea; something similar to irritation flashes across Izaya’s face, and they turn away from each other simultaneously. “And what, you think I actually _like_  the flea?”

”Hypothetically speaking... yeah.”

”Hypothe- what exactly gives the idea that I feel anything for Izaya other than absolute hatred?”

”Well, every time we eat lunch together or have a conversation, you never talk about yourself. It’s always ‘ _the flea this, the pest that, Iiizaaayaaa-kuun something else_.’ For someone who hates him, you sure talk about him a lot.”

”And?”

”Well, someone once said, ‘Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.’ Sounds familiar, ne, Shizuo-kun?” Shinra chuckles at what Shizuo thinks is the murderous look on his face. “Calm down.”

”Is there a point to all this?”

”Yeah, actually.” All traces of mirth leave Shinra’s face, and the future underground doctor plays with a blade of grass absently. “Whatever you feel about Orihara-kun is up to you, but he’s a pretty lonely guy. I’m pretty sure the only friend he has right now is me; whether you like him or not, it wouldn’t hurt him to have another one.”

Against his will, Shizuo’s heart goes out to Izaya- he’s gotten used to be alone because of his monstrous strength, but with Izaya it must be a completely different story. And when he realizes that, the tingling feeling he’s come to associate with his mission spirals upwards from his toes to his knees and something echoes in the back of his head: _a good start_. It’s only for a moment, though, and the echo and the feeling both leave Shizuo shortly. “He hates me just as much as I hate him, what makes you think he’d let me be his friend... hypothetically?”

Shinra’s lips quirk up a little. “He doesn’t hate _you_ ; he just hates the way he can’t read you. And with time, I think he’d let you in.”

”... You’re pretty sure of that, huh.”

Shinra just throws him another enigmatic smile as he stands up, brushing himself off. “Well, you’ve been the exception to his ability to read everyone; what’s one more?”

As Shizuo watches his friend walk off, he can’t find an answer to that question. And so he considers.

Befriending the flea... it probably would force him to get to Izaya a little bit. The pest would definitely be suspicious, but then Shizuo’s pretty sure that Izaya’s already suspicious of him since, as Shinra says, he’s unpredictable to the flea. It would undoubtedly be a huge pain, but ultimately, it would be one worth bearing if it means the original timeline won’t happen. 

 _Fine, I’ll save him- I’ll save the blasted flea. But the second things go south, I’m leaving him to rot_.

His own words come back to him in a haze, and suddenly he’s back in that bathroom, staring at his newly cleaned and stinging hands- the very same ones that Izaya had helped him wash off even though he didn’t need to. His own words both make him straighten in determination and slump in disgust, because of his really bad habit of making spur-of-the-moment decisions. He’s made a lot of them lately, but hopefully for a good reason.

He changes his promise, this time. _I’ll save Izaya, and I don’t care what it takes if it means that nothing in_ that _timeline will happen_. 

So he makes his way over and sits down in front of Izaya, who’s pretending not to notice him even though Shizuo knows that Izaya knows that he’s there. _He wants to be cute about this, huh?_  “Drop the act, Izaya.”

Sure enough, Izaya’s brow twitches in irritation as he sets his book down. “And I was having such a good day.”

”Oi, it’s not like I wanna see your ugly mug either.”

”... Then why are you over here?”

Shizuo considers his options. He could just play it down and come up with an excuse. He could just say, _Oh, Shinra told me that you’re lonely and wants me to be friends with you_ , although he’s not too keen on Shinra coming to him later and complaining about all the blackmail Izaya has on him. “Maybe I want to see what you’re reading this time.”

”You’re a horrible liar, Shizu-chan,” and yet Izaya still holds out the book for him to see- Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoy-whatever. “Now you’ve seen it, now you can go.”

”I’m actually here for something else.”

”Let me guess, you talked to Shinra, he said I was lonely, and now you want to be friends?”

”...” _Wow._

”Thought so.” Izaya’s mouth curves in a bittersweet smile as he tucks the book and the school bento in one arm and stands up. “No thanks.”

Now Shizuo’s convinced himself that he hates Izaya, that he despises him in the same way that he had in the original timeline. He’s sure that the feeling was the only thing that he had carried with him from that timeline to this one. He’s standing in front of the earlier version of the information broker of Shinjuku- the monster that had destroyed so many lives for the sake of his own pleasure- and he should be pummeling him into the ground right now. So Shizuo doesn’t know what it is that makes him grab Izaya’s arm before he can leave, but it must be important. 

Izaya looks down to his hand, and back to him as his eyes narrow. “Let go before I scream, Shizu-chan.”

”Izaya.” The words don’t feel like Shizuo’s own as they tumble out of his mouth, but at the same time they are full of every scrap of conviction Shizuo has. “You are the last person I want to talk to right now,” he says, watching confusion flit across Izaya’s features before some hints of hurt etch into his eyes. “Your face puts me off, and I hate everything about you. But I think we’re both the same in one way.”

”Don’t lump me in with you, protozoan, we’re nothing alike.”

”We’re both lonely.” That, Shizuo sees, is the truth that has Izaya’s face falling to blankness and his shoulders tensing. “We’re both different, and the world casts away people who are different. I know what it feels like, and though I think that you’re the scum of the earth, even you don’t deserve to feel alone.”

”So what?” Izaya challenges. “You’re going to befriend me, and all my issues will magically disappear?”

”And they call me the stupid one,” Shizuo mutters under his breath. “I’m trying to be nice here, Izaya. And really, I don’t care about your problems, but I’m trying to offer you a support system ‘cause everyone needs one, even you. It’s your choice whether you want to take it.”

Shizuo’s not really expecting that to do much, but surprisingly, the tension in Izaya’s shoulders drain out and something like a small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Shizuo stares at it for a moment, fascinated and weirdly satisfied from making Izaya really smile _(and he kind of wants to do it again)_. “No wonder I call you protozoan.”

When Izaya pivots on his heel and turns to walk away, Shizuo stares after him, confused. “Was that a yes?”

”No.”

”Was that a no?”

This time, Izaya’s voice holds a little bit of laughter as he calls over his shoulder, “No,” just before disappearing inside Raijin. 

It’s not until another classmate taps him on the shoulder and asks what good thing happened that Shizuo realizes he’s still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone caught the references in this chapter, mention in the comments! :) See you next update.


	6. dust and light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, the next day is when all shit hits the fan, because apparently Shizuo’s not allowed to be free from anything related to the flea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Glad you’re enjoying this story so far! Just a note that updates are probably going to be irregular from now on because school starts in two days for me.

Of course, the next day is when all shit hits the fan, because apparently Shizuo’s not allowed to be free from anything related to the flea.

He’s known that of course- has known that from the moment he agreed to save him- but it still catches him by surprise when he walks out of the dorm into the quad to find students nearly running over each other and buzzing with excitement.

His brow furrows; everything about this has Izaya’s signature over it, and yet the guilty party himself is nowhere to be found. Why he would be stirring up trouble at this hour escapes Shizuo’s understanding, seeing as how it’s nearly after hours. “Oi, Shiraishi,” he calls to a student in his class, who happens to be passing by. “What’s the news?”

Shiraishi actually stops walking in his surprise. ”You didn’t hear? Orihara blackmailed a guy into doing stuff-”

Huh. Figures that the flea would get his dirty business started here during high school; Shizuo doesn’t know when he had forgotten that Izaya’s actually a piece of scum, but he’s not making that mistake again.

”- and now he’s getting his ass kicked by that guy in the back of the school.”

It takes less than a second for the empty can of tomato juice in Shizuo’s hand to turn into a scrap of aluminum. ”He’s _what?!_ ” 

Shiraishi looks him up and down in confusion. “... That guy’s beating him up. Are you o- oi! Heiwajima!”

Shizuo’s gone before Shiraishi even finishes talking, kicking up a cloud of dust as he runs at breakneck speed towards the back of Raijin. Bodies right and left collide with his, but he can’t find himself to care as he yells quick apologies; his heart thuds loudly in his head, he’s more alert than he’s ever been, and it’s hard to breathe with the panic tightening his chest because only Izaya is on his mind. Only the thought of current timeline Izaya littered with the same broken bones as the dead Izaya from Shizuo’s own timeline keeps him on his feet even when he trips and picks himself back up again. _Izaya, you dirty bastard! Don’t you dare do anything until I get there!_

Shizuo rounds a corner, and there’s already a small crowd there, consisting of boys and girls alike as they tare turns cheering and wincing at random intervals. He pushes past them- “Izaya!”- and... oh god.

Izaya’s... Izaya’s not even fighting back, he’s curled into a ball with his arms covering his head and neck as he’s being kicked over and over again by some student, and... this is not the Izaya Shizuo knows, never mind that the one he knows is already dead. A particularly sharp kick gets a grunt out of Izaya and sends an arrow straight to Shizuo’s heart; out of his peripheral, he sees Shinra trying to push past the crowd, an expression of desperate hysteria as he calls out Izaya’s name over and over again. That, coupled with how Izaya is taking this lying down... Shizuo can’t bring himself to do nothing.

“Hey!” he yells, effectively parting the crowd. The guy kicking Izaya stops with his foot still suspended in the air and regards Shizuo with a scowl that also somehow looks disinterested. “Who the hell are you?”

Izaya doesn’t quite uncurl his arms, but he does part them enough for Shizuo to see the wide-eyed look he’s sporting; it also looks slightly patronizing, but Shizuo chooses to ignore that bit as he takes a step forward. “The guy who’s gonna make you think about picking on someone your own size.”

”Someone my own size, huh?” The guy smirks a little and drives his foot into Izaya’s side again. Although the flea doesn’t make a sound this time, the action still makes Shizuo’s blood boil. “I’m not bullying anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. No, see, this guy got a friend of mine into trouble. I’m just repaying the favor.”

”Regardless,” Shizuo snaps, finally getting close enough so that he’s almost between Izaya and this bastard. “Scram before I make you.”

”Please. What are you going to do, throw me out of the school?”

That’s _exactly_  what Shizuo’s planning to do, but before he can even move someone interrupts him.

”You better believe it,” Shinra’s deceptively cheerful voice replies as the student himself appears beside Shizuo. “My friend here is capable of doing that, and worse, so why don’t you be a good little boy and walk away like he told you to?”

“Stay out of this, Kishitani.”

“Ohhh, look at that. He’s being cute.” Shinra elbows Shizuo in the arm, the saccharine sweetness flowing from his tongue false as everything about the future doctor’s behavior now. “Whaddya say we help him out a bit?”

”Want me to rep-”

”So! Your options: get thrown out of Raijin- literally- with a side of broken bones and no dignity left to spare or let me dissect you in the biology classroom until you’re unrecognizable. Take your pick. Or,” a shiver runs down Shizuo’s spine as Shinra’s eyes darken, “if it’s your lucky day, you’ll have both.”

”Hey, hey.” Shizuo whirls around as Izaya stands up, his trademark pest smirk curving his lips even as he presses a hand to his ribs. “No need for any of that; he’ll leave soon enough.”

“Oi, flea, sit down, you need-”

“Is that a threat, Orihara?”

Shizuo’s arm flies out to block the guy from taking another step, which turns out to be entirely unnecessary because Izaya starts laughing. “No, no, Hokama-kun, nothing like that. But your mother is such a sweet lady; it would certainly be a shame if she found out about your unsavory extracurricular activities.” Izaya’s grin sharpens as the guy called Hokama blanches. “It would be sooo utterly unfortunate~”

”You’re not right in the head, Orihara,” Hokama snarls. “I should have killed you on the spot.”

”Yes, you really should have,” Izaya says casually as if he’s talking about the weather; instead of angering Shizuo, though, it makes his chest ache as he thinks back to his conversation with Denis the night before this mess began. _Is that what he meant?_  “Oh? You’re still here? Well, you leave me no choice; sending letter in three, two-”

There’s a blur of movement before Shizuo’s eyes, and without thinking his fist swings and connects with Hokama’s gut, sending the guy to the ground with a groan. For a moment, the only sounds are crickets and Shizuo’s heavy breathing; even Izaya’s stopped talking. Speaking of...

Shizuo looks back to the flea, allowing himself to scan the other boy quickly, before he leans down and grabs Hokama’s collar to bring him close to his face. “Touch Izaya again, and I will make sure that that is the last time you have hands. Got it?”

Hokama only nods, face pale, and Shizuo releases him with a grunt. “Now scram.”

He makes sure the guy runs far, far away and that the crowd disperses before he faces Izaya, who’s already being checked by Shinra despite his protests of “Can you quit manhandling me? I’m precious cargo, you know.”

”Not my fault you have delicate sensibilities,” Shinra quips before he straightens, apparently satisfied. “Well, Orihara-kun, you got lucky. With how hard he was kicking you, I’d have expected there to be broken ribs.”

”The universe just loves me.”

”Glad you’re aware. Shizuo-kun, do me a favor and walk him back to the dorm please.”

”Oi, why?”

Shizuo surprises himself with his own answer; he’d expected the idea to repel him, to physically make him back up a step or two because the very thought of walking with the flea, much less walk with him, is disgusting. Or it should be, anyway. Instead, all he feels is slight annoyance at being robbed of a peaceful afternoon with a phone call to home or watching the news. 

“Because,” Shinra continues, “there might be a chance Hokama-kun might go after Orihara-kun again, with backup, and with how inclined our favorite friend here is towards trouble, he won’t survive that. Now none of us is saying it, but we’re all thinking it, so I’m going to say it: I don’t want to take that chance.”

“Won’t he go after you too? Since you threatened him and stuff?”

”Which of the three of us has three scalpels in his pocket? Exactly; I’ll be fine, now shoo.”

Sounds like a valid answer, Shizuo thinks, and so he nudges Izaya and tilts his head towards the dorms. “Come on, flea.”

It seems like a dream, the way that it’s literally the inverse of the first school day and that it’s Shizuo’s turn to lead Izaya into a safe space. It must be a dream, with the way Izaya doesn’t argue and follows him, never more than two steps away from him... almost like he trusts Shizuo to take care of him. It’s probably a dream, Shizuo concludes, and a real confusing one at that.

He and Izaya head into Raijin, heading for the dorms, and they don’t talk; in fact, not a word passes between them until Shizuo is sitting on Izaya’s bed, using Izaya’s first aid kit to fix up Izaya in whatever way he can. “Shirt off, Izaya.”

”How straightforward of you, Shizu-chan.”

”Don’t make this weird, pest! Geez, lay off the innuendo, would you?”

”Where’s the fun in that?” but Izaya complies and tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. 

Shizuo’s mind short circuits for a second, if only because he’d forgotten that the most annoying person he knows also happens to be one of the most beautiful people he knows, and he stares at Izaya’s shoulders for several seconds before he shakes himself out of his stupor- _Ugh, hormones_ \- and wraps Izaya’s shirt around an ice pack. “Who was that Hokama guy, anyway?”

”Ah, just the friend of one of my middle school acquaintances, Nakura.” Izaya jumps a little. “Are you trying to bruise me more, Shizu-chan? Be careful with that.”

”Sorry.” In truth, Shizuo had pressed the ice pack a little too hard against the largest of Izaya’s blossoming bruises at the mention of ‘Nakura.’ Was that where _his_ Izaya had gotten the username? “So there was really a guy named _Nakura_ , huh?”

”Pardon?”

”Nothing. What’d you do to Nakura or whatever to make this Hokama guy come after you?”

”Shinra and I started a biology club in middle school, I turned it into a gambling ring, he gambled, he lost, he came to me for money so his dad wouldn’t find out, I refused, he pulled a knife on me.”

”What the hell, flea?!”

”Shinra jumper in front of the knife, though, and I called the ambulance and I promised to ruin Nakura-kun afterwards as compensation.” The grin Izaya wears reminds Shizuo of a shark. “And so I did.”

”... Only you,” Shizuo finally mutters as he removes the ice pack. “This only happens to you.”

”Well, of course, I’m special.”

 _Yes, you are_ , Shizuo thinks, but he’s not saying that out loud; Izaya’s ego is big enough as it is. Instead, he just refreezes the ice pack in Izaya’s mini fridge and sits down beside him on the bed, running a hand through his hair. 

He freezes when another hand joins his, though, and his eyes shift to Izaya, who’s regarding his hair with a look that can only be described as curiosity. “Your roots are showing, Shizu-chan.”

“Why the hell do _you_  care?”

“Ah, forgive me. I forgot protozoan monsters like to walk around with discolored hair.”

”Shut up, you.” Shizuo’s not really paying attention to what he’s saying, mostly because Izaya’s leaned in to look at his roots more and now he can see that birthmark again. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it.

He doesn’t know who’s more surprised, but what’s more surprising is the fact that Izaya hasn’t slapped his hand away yet. “... Shizu-chan?”

”... You’re touching my hair. This makes us even.”

”... I see.”

It’s initially the birthmark that attracts Shizuo’s attentions, but suddenly it becomes Izaya himself; the confused look on his face, brown eyes perpetually full of mischief that are just mellow now, the brittle trust Izaya’s placed in him. Even sitting up, Izaya is still shorter than him, which means Shizuo can smell the cinnamon tea that has been the flea’s unique scent. Izaya’s hands are warm in his hair, and he’s too close and yet not close enough. Shizuo doesn’t know which one’s worse, but he does know that he has to stop before things get out of hand.

So he retracts his hand and clears his throat before he stands. “Flea,” and it comes out more gruff than he wants it to be, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow from all that kicking. Make sure you rest.”

”Oh, I know,” comes Izaya’s own answer as he lets his hands slide back to his lap, but his voice seems slightly tighter than normal, even if he tries to make it seem playful. “If I’m sore, I’ll just say I did the do.”

On his way out, Shizuo splutters. _This guy...!_


	7. so close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever. I don’t want to be near that flea anyway,” he says, a familiar sentiment in the back of his mind, yet the words feel all wrong in his mouth.
> 
> Shinra gives him a look before he sighs. “Well, Simon-san insisted; the invitation still stands if you change your mind. Though, I think it’d be better if you go. It looks like, out of all the people who knew him, you’re the one that needs closure the most.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! I know it’s been forever since I last updated, but school started and I have the SAT tomorrow and other stuff I had to focus on. This update might not be much, but it’s all I have for now, so I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.

_Shizuo hears water dripping._

_It should be easy to pinpoint the source, but it’s much harder when it seems to him that water drips are surrounding him and that they’re somehow getting louder. He takes a few moments to himself before he hesitantly stretches out his arm and waves it around to catch wetness- or anything._

_Nothing, and he retracts his hand. But the moment he does so, he hears... crying._

_Unmistakable crying- that of a child’s. That strikes Shizuo in the heart because no kid should ever have to cry alone, in the dark, and without hope. So he walks towards the crying, never mind that the water around his ankles sloshes with every step, and calls out, “Hello?”_

_The crying doesn’t stop, but there’s a brief pause before hiccups echo in the tunnel or whatever he’s in and the child begins crying again._

_“Hey,” Shizuo calls out again. “I’m walking to you, okay, kid? I’m gonna get you out of here.” How the kid ended up here, Shizuo has no idea, but damn if his mother didn’t teach him not to leave a child alone when they’re upset or lost._

_”... Okay.”_

_The kid’s answer comes from a voice strained from weeping, and yet Shizuo’s forced to reevaluate his choices as he tries to think of who that voice reminds him of as he continues trying to spot the child._ It can’t be him, right? _“Kid, you’re gonna have to tell me where you are. It’s too dark in here to see.”_

_Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, a faint white light fills what Shizuo now recognizes as an abandoned subway station underneath Ikebukuro that was used as a water pipeline. He squints against the sudden light and looks around, scanning his surroundings until his eyes snap in the direction of another sob and he walks forward._

_The kid is sitting in water, arms hugging his knees to his chest, and a head of black hair on his knees as the boy continues to weep._

_He looks familiar, but Shizuo ignores the insistent tugging that he knows this child and says, “Hey, I’m here.”_

_The kid- and Shizuo swears that it is a kid- looks up, and suddenly Shizuo’s looking at full grown Orihara Izaya soaked from head to toe, who in turn is looking at him like he’s just seen light for the first time. “Shizu-chan?”_

_It’s starting to make sense now; Shizuo’s slow, but he’s not slow enough to miss what his circumstances are telling him right now. So he extends his hand towards Izaya and says with all the sincerity he can muster, “I’m here, Izaya. I’m here for_ you _.”_

_Izaya’s arms are wrapped around himself, the man himself is shivering even though it’s at least eighty degrees in this subway, and he looks torn between taking the hand and taking another step back. “How do I know that?”_

Shizuo jolts awake with Izaya’s name on his lips, with his hand outstretched. His vision shifts to the wall before him and he feels strangely empty as his hand falls back to the sheets, because it feels like he’s missing something. _But what?_

There’s a knock on his door; according to the clock, it’s only seven in the morning- again- and he slides out of bed to answer it. “Coming, coming.”

He swings the door open and there’s Celty, wearing what would have been an expectant look if she had a head to express it. “... Celty?”

He’s more than a little confused; he doesn’t remember Shinra ever introducing Celty to him in high school. Not that Shinra did much except profess his love for her in any given situation, but still. “What are you doing here?”

She tilts her head quizzically, but pulls out her PDA and types something. **“Shinra told me to come get you; he said you’d be sleeping in today. Anyway, he wants to talk to you.”**

“... But I have school?”

Celty might as well have stared at him for half a minute. **“You finished school nine years ago. Are you okay, Shizuo?”**

Nine years ago? Then that makes him... twenty-seven. Which means...

His eyes widen. _Is he...!_  “Celty... where is Shinra?”

**“Outside next to Scooter. What happened?”**

“It’s... oh, screw it.” 

Celty quickly steps to the side as he walks out of his room and out into the Ikebukuro morning. What would have been a pleasant sunrise is utterly ruined by Shinra sitting down on Celty’s horse still wearing that stupid lab coat and waving. “Ohayou, Shizuo-ku-”

“Where is he?” Shizuo snarls, unaffected by the looks the neighbors already up throw him.

Shinra’s smile falters in confusion. “Eh? What? Where is who?”

”Screw you, Kishitani Shinra, you know _exactly_  who I’m talking about.” And because Shizuo still has some decency, he makes it a point to stomp down the stairs until the entire apartment shakes with every step until he’s right up in Shinra’s face. “Where’s Izaya? And don’t give me some stupid answer like ‘I don’t know’ because I know you know.”

”What are you talking ab- oi, oi, oi, put me down. Put me down! Shizuo-kun!”

” _Where is he?!_ ” Shizuo yells as he complies with Shinra’s request in favor of looming over him.

”Orihara-kun’s dead.” Helplessness seeps into the grooves of Shinra’s face. “He drowned himself last week, remember?”

 _Izaya’s dead. He’s... he’s still dead?_  Shizuo brings a hand up to his mouth as he fights to urge to vomit. Everything about this is wrong, everything about this is so familiar and yet so foreign. He’s supposed to be happy, he’s supposed to be at peace, and yet... he’s not supposed to be here. _Izaya_.

_Was all of that for nothing? Did I even make a difference in this timeline?_

“Oh yeah,” he says dully in response. The red sun’s rising over the horizon, washing his neighborhood in soft orange, blinding yellow, and soft red, and yet he can’t think of it as anything but gray. Gray because it’s not really one or the other; it’s _his_ city, has always been his city, and yet he feels like a foreigner in its streets. “Celty said you wanted to talk to me.”

”Uh, yeah.” Shinra scratches his head and looks around at the people disappearing back into their homes before he continues. “Orihara-kun’s funeral is tomorrow, at ten in the morning. At Zoshigaya Cemetery. He probably...” Shinra chuckles a bit. “He probably wouldn’t have wanted a funeral, but they insisted.”

”They?”

”Simon-san and Shiki-san. They wanted to send him off to the afterlife properly.” Shinra huffs a sigh before he takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes while laughing sheepishly. “Heh, sorry, Shizuo-kun. Kind of stupid to be crying over him, huh? Especially when he was a massive asshole, ne?”

Whatever Shizuo wants to say lodges in his throat like a rock as he watches Shinra wipe his eyes, as he realizes that there is nothing to say and that he knows the reason for Shinra telling him all this. “You saying I should go to that flea’s funeral?”

“Mm,” Shinra hums his agreement as he puts his glasses back on and blinks. “You were friends with him, once. He’d probably want you to be there even if you two were only trying to kill each other all the time. ‘Closest enemy is my closest friend,’ you know?”

Every fiber in Shizuo’s soul rebels against the idea of seeing Izaya in a casket, and he’s about to say as much to Shinra. Instead, what comes out is, “He told you this?”

”Only when he was drunk.” Shinra rakes a hand through his hair and waves encouraging to Celty as she stares at the two of them from the door of Shizuo’s room. “He’d go on about the way you tried to approach him in high school, get to know him. It  meant a lot more to him than you’d know, Shizuo-kun.”

 _So I did change something. Still... why doesn’t it feel enough?_  “Whatever. I don’t want to be near that flea anyway,” he says, a familiar sentiment in the back of his mind, yet the words feel all wrong in his mouth.

Shinra gives him a look before he sighs. “Well, Simon-san insisted; the invitation still stands if you change your mind. Though, I think it’d be better if you go. It looks like, out of all the people who knew him, you’re the one that needs closure the most.”

Shinra’s words echo in Shizuo’s head long after he and Celty return to their apartment, long after he realizes that it’s his day off and long after Kasuka calls him to invite him to the wedding he has forgotten about.

 _Shinra, you’re wrong. I’m not getting any closure from anything having to do with Izaya_.

 

 

 

The next morning, Shizuo wakes up at nine and throws on an old suit in place of his usual bartender uniform. He brushes his teeth and actually puts effort into pacting down his hair until he gives up halfway through because it won’t stay down. He still wears the sunglasses, though; he’s not about to give the impression that he’s anybody but himself at Izaya’s funeral.

He buys a bouquet of white chrysanthemums at the local flower shop that he’s never paid any attention to until now. The old lady behind the counter smiles sadly at the flowers and asks him, “The person these flowers are for... they were your friend?”

”Friend” cannot begin to explain Orihara Izaya, because he was that and much, much more. But Shizuo doesn’t quite want to spill the entire story of their relationship to this lady, much less in public, so he says, “Something like that.”

She seems to understand, so she nods once and rings up the flowers. “300 yen.”

As Shizuo’s fishing out the bill from his pocket, she leans forward on the counter. “I don’t know what happened between you and your friend, but I think somewhere along the way things went wrong, and you think they were too wrong for you to fix. But there is always a way to set the wrongs of the past right in the present.” 

Then she laughs and shakes her head, dismissing herself as just “a rambling old woman,” and Shizuo tries gently to dissuade her otherwise as her last sentence drives itself home. _There is always a way to set the wrongs of the past right in the present_.

He thinks about that lady on the 22 minute train ride to Zoshigaya Cemetery and wonders if she had been speaking from experience. Maybe she had a friend, a lover even, that she had tried and failed warming her heart to. Maybe the reason that it failed, if it was true, was that maybe it was the right person, but wrong place, wrong time. 

Maybe she had tried to save someone who was only meant to drown in the end.

It’s a depressing thought, but what else can explain Shizuo’s sudden jump back to the present-day timeline? What else can explain the hollowness he feels because Izaya is still dead and it’s like he might as well have changed nothing? What else can it mean as the train pulls up to Zoshigaya Cemetery Station, as his heart is suddenly seized with a sudden grief that hits him with all the force of a bullet train? He has to force himself to get off at this stop, and as the train chugs away, he’s left wondering whether he’s made the best or worst choice in his life before he shakes himself and walks off.

Denis is the first one to approach him, surprisingly. The Russian claps Shizuo on a shoulder that’s as much a friendly gesture as it is one of comfort; the corners of the man’s eyes crinkle in an expression that’s simultaneously happy and sad. “You’ve made it just in time, Shizuo.”

Shizuo can only nod his acknowledgement as Denis guides him to his seat next to Mairu and Kururi; the girls look every bit as chipper as they usually do, but he’s known them long enough to recognize the way their smiles seem more forced than usual. They crowd on either side of him, both leaning against him, as Shizuo looks around the room for people he recognizes.

It’s a relatively small funeral for someone who’s had as big of an impact on Tokyo as Izaya did. Shinra and Celty sit two rows from the front of the altar, the former on the verge of breaking down as the latter tries to comfort him. Simon’s in a corner of the room, hat for once in his hands, and it allows Shizuo to see the graying of the Russian’s hair as Simon grieves within the privacy of his own mind. Izaya’s nasty ex-secretary is also here, though he doesn’t think that it’s that far of a stretch to assume Yagiri Namie doesn’t just hate the man she worked for. He’s kind of surprised to see Masaomi and a girl he supposes is his girlfriend, considering what Izaya put them both through. Then again, Masaomi doesn’t look particularly pleased to be here, so it’s probably more to support his girlfriend then. And of course, Shiki, Izaya’s sort-of boss and someone important in the yakuza, is here. 

Since there’s not that many people here, the wake is over within half an hour. Denis and Simon take turns blessing Izaya’s body in Russian, then Shiki in Japanese, and then it’s time to line up to burn incense in front of the urn. Shizuo ends up with Mairu and Kururi trailing behind him, but he pays them no mind because he’s too busy thinking about what he wants to say to the man lying inside the casket. 

 _Rest in peace,_ doesn’t seem right, and neither does _Stay safe_. Insulting the flea is also out of the question. So he keeps cycling through options as he shuffles forward every thirty seconds and watches people bid farewell to Izaya.

By the time it’s his turn, Shizuo’s run out of options, which is all well and good because he loses the ability to speak as soon as he looks into the casket.

Izaya looks as serene as he’s ever been, and more innocent than he has the right to be. All traces of mischief and sharpness are gone from his face, leaving only an expression of ease and an illusion of sleep. He’s dressed in a plain black kimono that Shizuo’s never seen before and makes his skin appear paler than it is. Shizuo has half a mind to tell him to quit messing around for the sake of another social experiment, but all that he feels as he stares at Izaya is bone crushing heartbreak that’s quickly replaced by burning determination. He knows what to say.

He lays down the flowers onto Izaya’s chest and sprinkles incense into the urn in front of the casket. “I’m going back, Izaya,” he murmurs, feeling almost as if he’s whispering something intimate into someone’s ear. “I’m going to save you this time. So wait for me, will you?”

Izaya doesn’t respond, of course he doesn’t, but Shizuo swears he can hear his answer. _Then get on with it, Shizu-chan_.

As Shizuo walks away from the altar, he doesn’t wait for Mairu or Kururi; he shoves his hands in his pockets and heads towards Simon, who had been the first one to sprinkle incense in the urn and is now at the door. 

The Russian gives him a long look as he approaches. “Too hard to say goodbye, Shizu-o?”

Shizuo nods. Simon looks to the right, to the left, and behind Shizuo before he steps to the side to let Shizuo out. “Let it out at home, Shizu-o. Cry out sadness at home, then be happy and eat sushi; he is peace now.”

Shizuo can’t bring himself to say, as he bows slightly and walks out of the funeral home, that he isn’t planning to grieve nor eat sushi. 

 _Then get on with it, Shizu-chan_.

He thinks back to his dream, and he finds that he knows how it ends.

_Shizuo takes a step forward, watching Izaya for a reaction- there isn’t any. So he takes one more, and another, until he’s directly in front of Izaya and stretching his hand out. Slowly, slowly, until his hand covers Izaya’s, like his warmth would be enough to drive the chill from Izaya’s soaked body. He makes no move to pry the other man’s arms away from his body; that’s not what he needs to do. Instead, he waits until Izaya looks up at him and says, “Let me get you out of this place. Let me be here for you.”_

He’s not going to fail this time. And so he walks into the middle of Zoshigaya Cemetery and closes his eyes. _Take me back to him; I’m not done with him yet_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had more symbolism than I originally intended. XD.


	8. i have to save him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Drop the act, Izaya.”
> 
> He knows this part like the back of his hand; they’re back on the field during lunch break, he’s trying to talk to Izaya, who’s very keen on ignoring him. This conversation has happened before, he remembers, but what’s weird is that he doesn’t feel any sense of deja vu at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I know it’s been so long since I updated, with school and everything. I was also stuck trying to think of a way to make the plot make sense and all, so I hope this works.
> 
> Enjoy!

Shizuo can tell without needing to open his eyes that he’s back in the Raijin era, that the universe had actually listened to him for once and transported him back here. His fingers curl a little on the sheets of his dorm’s bed, as if reminding him this is real, that he has another chance.

He doesn’t need that reminder, not when it’s at the forefront of his mind.

He kicks off the covers and spares a fleeting glance at the clock; it’s 7:00, like it somehow always is whenever he checks the clock. This is probably the only time in his life where he actually bothers to get his uniform on fast enough so that he has enough time to talk the person whose number he’s currently dialing on the phone.

Just as he tugs his button-up over his shoulders, someone answers his call. “You only call home when you miss my cooking, huh, Shizuo?”

Shizuo can’t help but laugh as he momentarily forgets about buttoning up his shirt in favor of sitting down with the phone pressed to his ear. “You cook great, _ka-san_ , but that’s not what I’m calling about.”

”Oya? Is this my firstborn son?” His mother tuts into the phone like she disapproves, but the playful note in her voice lets Shizuo know she’s kidding. “What troubles you, Shizuo? Is it a girl?”

”Ah, no, it’s a guy.”

A beat drops before Shizuo realizes how that sounded and scrambles to reply, “It’s not a boyfriend, just a guy I know, we’re not dating or anything like that-”

”What’s it to me if you have a girlfriend or boyfriend? If you are happy, then I am happy, yes? Yes. Now, who’s this guy?”

Shizuo pauses for a second as he tries to summarize Orihara Izaya in six words or less. “He’s... a friend of Shinra’s.”

”Shinra? Kishitani’s boy?”

”Mm.”

”Bless that boy for having such a father, hmph. Though Shinra-chan probably doesn’t care. He introduced you to this boy?”

A yell and a crack of pavement emanate from somewhere in Shizuo’s mind, and he lets the memory of that disastrous first meeting pass with nothing more than a burning face and firsthand embarrassment. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, if he’s Shinra-chan’s friend, then he should be a little bit  _kureji (crazy)_ but decent, yes? Does he have friends?”

”I called you to ask about that, _ka-san_. How do I make friends with someone who doesn’t want to be friends?”

His mother tuts again on the end of the line, shortly followed by a rustling sound. “Everyone wants friends, Shizuo; if they say they don’t, well, they want you to try harder. This boy sounds very lonely, so go spend time with him. If you ever see him upset, go talk to him. Treat him like you would treat Kasuka, ne?”

Huh, Shizuo thinks as he stares at the _7:20_ on his clock. He’s never thought of that. Granted that in the original timeline, Kasuka was there for him more often than the other way around, but Shizuo remembers that he had always been the one to protect Kasuka from overeager or sketchy paparazzi. He could do that for Izaya. “That’s smart. Thanks, _ka-san_.”

“No, thank you, Shizuo. Call home more often, yes? Your old mother misses you.”

 _I will_. “I definitely will. Bye.”

”Bye,” his mother says. “Ah, I just remembered.”

”What?”

”What was this boy’s name?”

Shizuo’s finger hovers over the end button as he considers. “Izaya. His name’s Izaya.”

 

 

”Drop the act, Izaya.”

He knows this part like the back of his hand; they’re back on the field during lunch break, he’s trying to talk to Izaya, who’s very keen on ignoring him. This conversation has happened before, he remembers, but what’s weird is that he doesn’t feel any sense of deja vu at all. 

Izaya’s brow twitches just as it had during the first occurrence of this conversation and sets down his book. “And I was having such a good day.”

 _Oi, it’s not like I wanna see your ugly mug either_. Those are Shizuo’s next lines, the ones hovering on his tongue from the script he’s trying so hard to rewrite. They fill the empty space in his mouth and weigh down the tip of his tongue, like they’re daring him to say it out loud.

Instead, he gives Izaya a look that’s hopefully blank and sits down cross legged beside him.

Izaya looks from Shizuo’s position to his face, behind him, behind himself, and back to Shizuo’s face. “What are you doing, protozoan?” 

“Do you want to be friends?”

He doesn’t know what expression he expected Izaya to have; maybe laughter, or disbelief, or something like that since he did scoring this on him out of nowhere. But he doesn’t expect Izaya to stare at him before he looks at the ground like he’s actually considering it. “Are you an idiot?” he finally asks.

 _What?_ “Excu-”

”Don’t you think if I wanted friends, I would have had hundreds by now?” Izaya shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips that looks both pitying and condescending. “You aren’t the first to ask, and you won’t be the last one. Get over it.”

Izaya might actually be the protozoan one here if he thinks it’s going to be that easy, because Shizuo can’t- not after the first time he was thrown back to his Raijin days, not after he’s seen how amazing Izaya can be when he’s not blackmailing people or trying to slice them into ribbons, and certainly not after the funeral. The version of Izaya that sits before him now is the same one he had promised to save; Shizuo can only hope the Izaya of this timeline will let him. 

“I know you,” he says, watching Izaya jolt from surprise. “I know what you’re capable of, and I’m always going to think you’re brilliant even if I don’t like the things you’re doing. You’re amazing, but I know you’re lonely too. I know you surround yourself with people because it’s the closest you’ll get to ever feeling something like appreciation or affection from them. I know what that feels like and it’s not fun. So I’m asking again, do you want to be friends?”

Izaya wears an unreadable look; the only indication that he’s heard anything Shizuo said is the slightly hard look in his eyes, and even then that’s not much to go on. Izaya’s fingers rest ominously over the book he was reading- Crime and Punishment, just like last time. Shizuo’s nearly dying of anticipation of Izaya’s answer, but he forces himself to wait. _This is your second chance, don’t mess it up_. 

“A week.”

Shizuo raises his head; Izaya’s eyes are on a small blade of grass that he pulls at absently. “Ask again in a week, and I’ll give you my answer.”

It’s not until Izaya takes his book, picks himself up, and leaves that Shizuo realizes that Izaya’s being serious.

So he waits a week. 

Things go on normally like usual: Shizuo goes to class, where he tries not to smash desks into his classmates’ bodies for being idiots or poking fun at some poor kid who doesn’t realize he’s being manipulated into various schemes. He goes to the library habitually now and checks out books on engineering; if he has the strength to destroy, he also has the strength to create, and frankly destroying things is no longer a necessity in his life. He eats lunch with Shinra most of the time and listens to him rant about Celty, or dissections, or his dad- although he draws the line when Shinra brings up the age old topic of dissecting him “for research purposes, Shizuo-kun.”

Throughout the week, if he and Izaya catch sight of each other, Izaya’s usually the first to brush past him without a word. Other times, if Shizuo’s in the library, Izaya will sometimes come in and sit either in front of him or at a table close to him. Shizuo notes that most if not all the books that Izaya reads have something to do with human nature; so far, the books he’s noticed the other boy read are Crime and Punishment, No Longer Human, and the Brothers Karamazov. Shizuo sometimes takes a break from homework to study Izaya’s face as he reads; his favorite moments are when Izaya’s face contorts into the expressions he must be reading about in the book or when he chuckles in the middle of a chapter. Those moments are just more pieces to the new puzzle fitting together in Shizuo’s mind about the flea- a more realistic, more human picture.

Things like this go on for almost the entire week, until Izaya is the first to break the pattern on Friday. As they pass each other in the hallway, Shizuo feels something thin slip into his hand the moment Izaya passes him. He doesn’t stop walking, but he does wait until Izaya’s rounded a corner to discreetly look at the note. 

 _The roof during lunch break. Meet me there_. 

Considering that it’s only about nine-thirty when he gets the note, Shizuo mutters under his breath about fleas setting unbearable time standards, but he pockets the note anyway.

The morning crawls away, too slowly for Shizuo’s liking, until the bell rings at 12:30 in a dismissal for lunch. Immediately Shizuo gets out of his seat and moves past the students who are close to blocking the doorway, starting for the stairs as soon as he sets foot outside his home room. 

It takes him less than five minutes to reach the door leading to the roof, two minutes to open the door and stare at the figure sitting on a bench and staring past the fence. “Izaya?”

Izaya doesn’t look at all surprised to see him here on such short notice, judging by the way he just nods in acknowledgment. “For a second I thought I’d misjudged you, protozoan.”

Shizuo shrugs and walks further out, careful to keep his movements slow even though he’s ninety-nine percent sure Izaya won’t flee the scene if he makes a sudden movement. “S‘mean you have your answer, flea?”

“How perceptive of you, Shizu-chan.” Izaya hops off the bench, the smile he’s wearing fading with every step until he’s right in front of Shizuo and staring into his eyes. Shizuo’s body screams from habit to close himself off, because something must be wrong if the flea is looking at him like that, but he steels himself and lets Izaya search his eyes.

Then Izaya steps back, a strange look on his face; Shizuo doesn’t get to ask what that means before Izaya speaks. “I lied about what I said earlier last week, when I said I could have hundreds of friends if I wanted them. You’re the first one to ask. Why?”

”Why?” Shizuo echoes.

”If this is something Shinra set you for, then forget about it. What I want to know is why you suddenly want to make friends with the person you were about to pummel into the ground on the first day of school.” Izaya crosses his arms. “So tell me, Shizu-chan, why?”

It’s a fair question, if also one designed to make Shizuo stumble, but Izaya’s lost this round because Shizuo already knows the answer. “Because you don’t know it yet, but I promised you I would.”

Izaya regards him for two heartbeats before he huffs and looks down. “I suppose that’s a good explanation as any, then, for being friends.”

”Guess so.” 

Something in Shizuo’s chest loosens as Izaya chuckles softly, and when he blinks he tilts his face towards the sky. _Let’s do this for real this time, Izaya_. 


	9. study session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Passé composé and imparfait, huh?”
> 
> Shizuo would like to throw his hands up in frustration, but that’d be making a scene in the “quiet study hour” and he doesn’t really want to embarrass Izaya for being seen with him when he’s worked up. “It’s past tense,” he hisses instead. “Why does there have to be two different kinds of past tense conjugations?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys.
> 
> I know it’s been so long since I posted. I’ve just been really, really sick, and I’ve fainted a few times, so my health is not really good right now. I had this sitting in my brain for a little while, and this is kind of a filler chapter. You don’t have to count it as part of the story if you don’t want to, since this can kind of stand on its own.
> 
> Action will pick up next chapter, I promise. Thanks for all your support.

Things don’t make a big change at first. They still walk past each other in the hallways like they’re strangers, although Shizuo will get some eye contact from Izaya if he’s lucky, and they still sit at different places during lunch. If Shizuo didn’t know better he’d say Izaya’s avoiding him, but he knows enough to realize that Izaya prefers to process sudden, unexpected developments in his life by himself. And given that Izaya apparently still remembers how they met on the first day of school, it not that surprising for Izaya to be a bit wary.

It took almost a week for Izaya to agree to be friends. It takes another, Shizuo learns, for it to actually start happening.

He’s sitting again in the library, not with an engineering book this time, puzzling over a French worksheet that does nothing except crush the shreds of his patience to smithereens. No matter which way he looks at it- up, down, sideways- it doesn’t make sense.

He twists his hands into his hair and tugs, as if that will somehow make him remember everything he learned about how to solve this particular paper; it doesn’t, and he growls quietly as he racks his brain for anything that might be useful.

A shadow falls across his paper. “That’s a scary face you’re making, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya looks nothing short of smug when Shizuo looks up at him, which he would find annoying on a regular basis, but this time the grin he wears is softer, more real, and a startling contrast to the usual smirk that’s as sharp as his blade. Izaya looks human like this, and Shizuo forgets for a moment that he has French homework to finish. “... Oi, shut it.”

“Cranky today, are we?” Izaya huffs a chuckle, one that gets the attention of the librarian although he waves her off before she can shush him, and sits down in his usual spot- across from Shizuo. “So what plagues your mind today, protozoan?”

”This damn worksheet,” Shizuo says, voice edged with frustration, before he realizes that he’s responded to the nickname with an actual answer.

Izaya must have come to the same conclusion judging from the amusement on his face, but thankfully all he does is pull Shizuo’s paper to himself and look at it. “Passé composé and imparfait, huh?”

Shizuo would like to throw his hands up in frustration, but that’d be making a scene in the “quiet study hour” and he doesn’t really want to embarrass Izaya for being seen with him when he’s worked up. “It’s past tense,” he hisses instead. “Why does there have to be two different kinds of past tense conjugations?”

“One is for constant actions in the past, and the other one’s for a sudden event or something that happened once. Also, your mind’s tricking you into believing that French and Japanese have the same grammar, Shizu-chan.”

”I get th- wait, what?”

”Japanese was your first language, ne? It’s the first language you’ve known, so your mind makes you think that all other languages work the same way. You need to tell yourself you’re speaking French.”

”How?”

”Well, do you know how to conjugate those two?”

“...”

Izaya does sigh, but Shizuo prefers to believe that it’s less long suffering and more amused as Izaya digs a pencil out of his bag and writes down a word. “Okay, do you know what this means?”

Être. He knows that one, that means, “To be.”

”And this one?”

”To have.”

“Not bad, Shizu-chan~”

Part of Izaya’s hair is hanging in front of his face, but not enough to cover his eyes- which means that Shizuo can see that crescent birthmark. Which means that Shizuo’s mind chooses that moment to compare his eyes to setting sunlight through whiskey. Which means Shizuo has to pretend that Izaya has no effect of him as he says,“Shut up and keep helping me, flea.”

“Fine, fine. So the passé composé is composed of two parts: the present tense conjugation of either avoir or être, and a past participle. Those, you have to memorize. In this question,” Izaya’s pencil tape against the paper, “you need avoir.”

”Why?”

”Because ‘to be’ in past tense would be, in our equivalent, ‘have been.’ So, the je form would be ‘j’ai été.’”

”What about, uh, imparfait?”

“You conjugate the verb to the ils form, drop those endings, and add ais, ais, ait, ions, iez, aient. So the je form for avoir would be j’avais.” Izaya looks back down at the paper. “Actually, for this one, you’d use j’étais.”

It kind of makes sense now. Kind of, being the key phrase. But Shizuo still doesn’t understand the difference, and he says as much to Izaya.

”Passé composé is a specific time and imparfait is nonspecific time. So if you wanted to say, I have been to Japan last year, you would say, j’ai été au Japon l'année dernière. If you just say, I have been to Japan, you would say, j’étais au Japon. Get it now, Shizu-chan?”

”I think so, yeah. Uh... thanks.”

Shizuo cringes inwardly at just how _lame_ he sounds. Granted that he’s been successful in getting Izaya to form some semblance of a friendship with him, but keeping it up is actually harder. 

Izaya agrees too, from the way he rolls his eyes. “Don’t get too comfortable with it, Shizu-chan.”

”Look, can you just let me thank you for something?”

”Ah~, you’re cute in thinking I’d make it easy.”

Shizuo just barely restrains himself from letting out a growl of frustration in the library, even though he feels his irritation slipping away as Izaya’s smirk turns into something slightly more genuine. “See you around, protozoan.”

How that pest makes something sound affectationate and coy at the same time is beyond Shizuo. Even so, he finds himself waving back to said pest as Izaya exits the library and staring at the space in which he had just sat until he shakes his head and packs up his books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese has only two tenses: past and non past (present, future, etc).


	10. in a crowd of thousands, there is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hits him hardest when Izaya turns to look at him, all bright eyes and even brighter smile. “What’s with that face, Shizu-chan?”
> 
> Everything would be easier if I hated you like I’m supposed to. I don’t care if nothing changes, I want to save you. I want you alive. I want... 
> 
> “You’re amazing,” Shizuo admits. Quietly. Truthfully. Watching as all sorts of emotion revolve around Izaya’s face before it settles on confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I’m finally back and it feels great. 
> 
> Apologies to everyone who agonized over when I would lost this chapter, but everything just hit me all at once. If you remember, I was really sick, then I injured my wrist so I couldn’t type, and then the Early Action due date was on Thursday, so I had to get that done.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. This is kind of the deep breath before the plunge, so... yeah. I talk too much, but have a fun read.

_Ichi. Ichi. Ichi._

_It’s dark, as it always is whenever Shizuo hears this voice- so dark, he can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed. A chorus of ghostly whispers press against him like gravity with an undertone of menace even though there’s no one to be see._

_Ichi. Ichi. Ichi._

_One. One. One._

_One what? The words stick in Shizuo’s throat, lodging there more securely with every effort he makes to push them out. One what?_

_Cackles coil around him, ensnaring him in some kind of prison that he can’tbreak free from no matter what he does. They rise in volume and hostility, crescendoing into a furious funnel of darkness until-_

_Izaya._

_The whisper leaves as fast as it comes, dissolving into space like vapor into air, but it’s not fast enough for Shizuo to ignore it. Izaya, Izaya. What does Izaya have to do with this?_

_“Bit slow on the uptake, aren’t we, Shizu-chan?”_

_Shizuo turns around, and oh, Izaya’s right there. Right there with the classic smirk painted on his lips, eyes glinting like there’s a secret only he knows, genuine joy lighting his face._

_Shizuo doesn’t expect his hand to pass through empty space, nor the image of Izaya to disappear before his eyes, but that’s exactly what happens and it sends him into a panic that takes the oxygen out of his lungs._

_He surges forward, Izaya’s name on his lips, but there’s a wind pushing him backwards, pulling him in the direction he came until he’s falling... falling..._

 

 

Shizuo blinks and reality slaps him in the face, complete with a gust of warm wind that rushes through his hair and his clothes. He has enough awareness to dart his eyes away from the rays of the setting sun, down to the field below the Raijin balcony on which he is currently sitting.

A small sigh spirals upwards from just underneath him; it’s Izaya, resting his head on his arm, which in turn is resting on Shizuo’s lap. Not that he minds, really, he’s just surprised after yesterday’s reluctance that Izaya would even consider using him as a pillow for his nap.

Hesitantly he skims his fingertips over Izaya’s forehead, brushing some of the more wayward strands out of the way even as the wind continues to blow them back into place. Izaya doesn’t stir, so Shizuo takes the opportunity to move his hand to Izaya’s shoulder, rubbing small circles on it as he stares in the same direction as the sunset.

It’s the third time he’s had this dream, or premonition. The third time he jolts back to reality with his heart thudding in his chest expecting Izaya to disintegrate into smoke like he had been imagining this entire situation. It’s not often that Shizuo gets scared of his own dreams, since he’s all but accepted that they’re part of his subconscious, but something about this one doesn’t feel familiar, doesn’t fit into the slot where Shizuo stores all the dreams he’s had. The voice narrating this dream reminds him of a snake, and he can’t forget how shivers flew along his spine whenever it spoke, even in his sleep, and it radiates menace in a way Shizuo can’t even begin to describe. And there’s the fact that it keeps repeating the same word over and over again.

Ichi. One.

Shizuo has always been under the impression that everyone stopped at number three. For example, third time’s the charm, three’s a crowd, good things come in threes, and the fact that people always stop at three before doing something like saying something important. But this voice, whoever or whatever it is, stops at one.

What’s so important about one? And why does it seem like it was a bad thing? For all that Shizuo doesn’t know the answers to these questions, there’s a faint tickle at the back of his mind, one that disappears with the wind as soon as Shizuo attempts to pursue that train of thought.

Shizuo sighs, the tail of it turning into a small groan of frustration. Whatever, he thinks. It’s probably nothing.

Sometime ago, his hand had decided to quit tracing circles on Izaya’s shoulder in favor of carding through Izaya’s hair- which, under normal circumstances, would be weird as it is. Then again, Shizuo’s sitting in the middle of the weirdest situation he’s ever been in, so he doesn’t really have a right to talk.

Besides, this is kind of nice. He’d never really thought about Izaya’s hair before, but now that he’s actually touching it he can easily say that it’s the softest thing he’s ever felt. The slightly longer strands slip through his fingers so easily, it would be easy to convince himself that he’s trying to hold water. The heat coming from Izaya’s head warms his fingers like he’s holding a cup of warm tea.

It’s so weird to realize that once upon a time, he’d thought of Izaya as cold.

”Are you treating me like a cat now, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo snorts, refusing to think about why his lips quirked in a smile so fast, before looking down at the source of the drowsy voice. “You’d probably act like a cat if you had water thrown on you.”

Izaya may be sleepy, but apparently he’s conscious enough to pout petulantly, and it’s almost enough to make Shizuo take back the teasing statement. Almost. “So mean. I can’t believe I agreed to befriend the likes of you.”

 _I can’t either_. “Oi, that says more about you than about me, Izaya.”

”Shows how much you know~” Izaya either ignores or doesn’t hear the annoyed growl Shizuo makes as he sits up, stretches, and then opens his eyes to take in the sunset. “Ah, lovely view.”

It is; the sky is on fire, painted a deep bold orange that washes everything in a golden light, activating what seems to be the touch of Midas as the sun begins its descent towards the horizon. The hard edges that make Raijin Academy now are dulled by the sleepiness that always comes with sunset, reflecting off of the windows in such a way that has Shizuo wondering if this is really their school. He turns to ask Izaya’s opinion, and his question promptly dies on his lips.

In this light, Izaya looks the complete opposite of everything Shizuo has ever considered him- warm instead of cold, silk instead of steel, human instead of machine. The soft tone of the sunset softens the lines of Izaya’s face until it seems as if Izaya is the sun himself, radiating happiness and peace and joy. Shizuo believes it, at this moment. Izaya’s eyes are closed, and his lips are curved in a smile that’s softer than any of the ones Shizuo has ever seen on him.

Hard to believe that this is the same Izaya who found joy in manipulating Ikebukuro’s activities to suit him and brought so much havoc on the city, harder still that this is the same person toyed with the lives of so many people just to satisfy his yearning for acknowledgement, that this is the same one who would be willing to watch a hundred people struggle for their lives if it made him a little less bored. What’s probably most unbelievable, though, is the fact that this is the same Izaya Shizuo used to hate with every fiber of his being.

Shizuo doesn’t hate him now.

He _can’t_.

He can certainly try, but his gut tells him that even if nothing changes- if the fate of his city still remains the same- he would never hate Izaya again even if he leaves Ikebukuro to burn. And his gut has never been wrong.

It hits him hardest when Izaya turns to look at him, all bright eyes and even brighter smile. “What’s with that face, Shizu-chan?”

 _Everything would be easier if I hated you like I’m supposed to. I don’t care if nothing changes, I want to save you. I want you alive. I want..._ “You’re amazing,” Shizuo admits. Quietly. Truthfully. Watching as all sorts of emotion revolve around Izaya’s face before it settles on confusion. “Shizu-chan?”

“You’re amazing,” Shizuo repeats, louder in case Izaya missed the first time. “Look, it’s... it’s hard to explain, but....”

He breaks off in a frustrated growl, drawing a nervous laugh and an awkward pat on the shoulder from Izaya. “Protozoan, I think you need sleep, since it’s long after school hours and all...”

It’s a testament to how disoriented Shizuo is that he reaches up and clasps Izaya’s hand with his own; yet the bewildered and slightly wary expression Izaya wears is the only thing keeping him from falling completely into the desperation that threatens to overwhelm him, the only clear thought in this sea of tangled red strings. His heart thuds a million miles per minute with how many things he needs to say before he forgets or loses the courage to, but all that makes it past his lips is, “Don’t ever change. Izaya, promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never change. Promise me.”

“Shizuo-”

“Please.” Never in a million years has Shizuo ever thought that he would beg Orihara Izaya for anything, but here he is, asking Izaya to do the one thing that caused Ikebukuro’s downfall in the first place.

“Okay, okay. Silly protozoan, getting worked up over nothing.” Izaya still looks confused, but his voice dips in finality at his next words. “I promise.”

It’s done. Shizuo’s just sealed Ikebukuro’s fate for good, has just taken everything he thought he knew and thrown it all away because of something he feels. Yet as he stares into Izaya’s eyes, he knows he would do it all again. Without a second thought, without a doubt, simply because this is Izaya- real, alive, amazing Izaya- and Shizuo cannot live without him.

He lets go of Izaya’s hand, settling back onto his spot on the balcony and closing his eyes. In less than a heartbeat, a hand curls around his shoulder, and he opens his eyes to stare into Izaya’s, whose gaze somehow manages to balance both confusion and concern at the same time. “Shizu-chan,” he begins, softer than Shizuo thought he was capable of, “tell me what’s wrong, or I swear I’ll leave you here since you’re acting so weird.”

”... It’s like I said earlier,” Shizuo says after a moment. “You’re amazing and I don’t want you to change.”

”That’s... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Probably not, Shizuo thinks to himself, only because he has no idea how to tell Izaya. He doesn’t even need to know Izaya that well to know that _I’m from the universe where you died and now I’m trying to save you_  is probably not the best way to go about that.

Instead he just looks at the setting sun, and says, “You can sleep on me again if you want.”

”... So weird,” he hears Izaya mutter before the boy himself scoots closer to him, until their thighs are pressed together. Shizuo can’t find it in himself to be surprised or even care when after two minutes of complete silence Izaya decides to rest his head on his shoulder, and one of his arms encircles Izaya’s shoulders before he realizes he’s done it.  

They stay that way for while, watching the sun sink lower. Or at least Shizuo is; he can’t really see if Izaya’s still awake or not because of his hair, but he’s got to be getting sleepier based on how tired he was earlier. 

As if he can hear his thoughts, Izaya shifts his head on Shizuo’s shoulder, snuggling in until the top of his head rests against Shizuo’s neck. He seems to be on the line between awake and asleep, which is probably why he says the things he does. “If I didn’t know better, Shizu-chan,” he murmurs, sleep slurring his words, “I’d say you’re in love with me.”

_Drunk words are sober thoughts_. One of his mother’s many pearls of wisdom comes back to Shizuo now, as he considers Izaya’s drowsiness-induced words. Maybe being sleepy does make you lose control of what you say. _Or maybe I_ am _in love with you_. “What would you say if I was?”

Izaya chuckles into his shoulder. _Still falling asleep, then_. “That you truly are a protozoan.” 

Izaya doesn’t even get to finish saying the last syllable before he trails off, sleep claiming him once and for all. His body sags against Shizuo’s, and he thinks that maybe the only reason Izaya doesn’t fall is the arm Shizuo has around his shoulders. 

Love is a foreign concept to Shizuo, but not foreign enough that he doesn’t know the traditional gestures that follow it: dates, flowers, hand holding, kisses. It’s not foreign enough that Shizuo doesn’t see the way its definition has shifted over time, from a tender affection felt between two people for each other to just attention. And while love does involve attention, Shizuo thinks that if attention equalled love, then everybody would be falling in love with everyone. 

The core of his relationship with Izaya has never really been about love; it was more founded on mutual dislike. But that wouldn’t explain his willingness to follow along with this bizarre situation, to get to know someone who never took the chance to know him, to reach for another chance to save Izaya even when the Izaya of his timeline was already gone. That wouldn’t explain the protectiveness that surges in him now every time he sees Izaya, or how content he feels to just Izaya sleep on him and watch the sunset with him. Shizuo’s still figuring it all out, but he thinks that if he was compelled enough to save Izaya after refusing to accept the finality of his death... he must really be in love with Izaya.

_You’re right to call me a protozoan,_  Shizuo thinks at the sleeping figure draped along his side, _if this is what it means to be in love with someone_. 


	11. may the odds be never in your favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s standing in the middle of the quad, alone with Raijin’s main building behind him and facing the court, absolute silence surrounding him except for the lullabies of cicadas and crickets and the hoots of owls somewhere off to his distant right, with no proof that anything of the last minute happened except in his memory and the feeling in his gut that tells him something is very, very wrong. 
> 
> What’s going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, and I’m super sad. It’s been so fun writing this, even if the plot was a little hard to develop. Thanks for everyone who’s stuck with me this far.

By the time Shizuo returns Izaya to his dorm, the sun has long since set and the last streaks of day are still fading. It’s not that late, but he knows Shinra would throw a fit if his roommate didn’t return by nighttime, which is why he’d had to muster all the willpower he had to wake Izaya.

Now here he is, hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet, standing at the end of the last flight of stairs leading up to Izaya’s dorm as Izaya himself walks up the stairs and pauses at the door. “Shizu-chan.”

”Hmm?”

“Did you mean what you said before I fell asleep again?”

_If I didn’t know better, Shizu-chan, I’d say you’re in love with me._

_Whar would you say if I was?_

“Yes,” Shizuo says finally without hesitation, without a second thought. A small part of him is kind of surprised that he’s able to admit it without becoming a blushing mess, but he supposed it makes sense. Admitting that he loves Izaya is possibly one of the easiest things he’s ever done, especially in light of everything he’s done so far. 

“For how long?”

Izaya asks this question with anxiety making him tug at his sleeves, like he’s afraid to know the answer. There once was a time when Shizuo would have thought it unthinkable that Orihara Izaya could become anxious, would have laughed even, but not now. Now, every fiber of his being longs to take all of Izaya’s anxiety and throw it out the window.

”For every lifetime I’ve known you.” _For every lifetime I’ve met you, talked with you, tried to save you. For every minute we’ve spent together since you let me get close to you_. Shizuo’s not going to lie and say that it’s been for his entire life, because it hasn’t been, but in his opinion, falling in love with someone over the span of three timelines is way more significant.

That, at least, brings a smile to Izaya’s face, and he looks down with a small laugh. “That’s not a unit of time, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo shrugs, continues rocking back and forth on his feet. “Does it have to measured by time?”

Surprise widens Izaya’s eyes at first, has his mouth fall open in a rare show of astonishment, and for a moment Shizuo’s struck with the sudden fear that he might have gone too far; Izaya in this timeline, after all, has only known him for a little more than a week. Shizuo’s suddenly angry with himself for forgetting how overwhelming it must seem to Izaya, never mind himself, and he’s on the verge of running up the steps and apologizing for his carelessness.

Then Izaya smiles. In the span of a second, he looks a little less war-torn and a little more like the sunset they’d watched together. And it’s in that second that Shizuo wonders why it took him this long to realize what Izaya is to him when they could have always had this.

”I guess not,” Izaya says, and Shizuo releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he feels a smile of his own find its way onto his face.

Several heartbeats of them just smiling stupidly at each other pass in relative silence, the sound of crickets somewhere in the back too insignificant for Shizuo to pay attention to it. 

Then Izaya coughs and looks away. “I should... I should go inside.”

Shizuo agrees, but he also can’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face so he shields his face with one hand as he clears his throat. “Yeah, you should.”

”Yeah.”

”Yeah.”

”Yeah.” Izaya pauses again at the door and looks back at him. “ _Oyasumi_ , Shizu-chan.”

”See you tomorrow, ‘Zaya.”

Only when Izaya closes the door does Shizuo turn to start making his way down the stairs, reliving the past hour in his head. The afterimage he sees when he blinks is always, always Izaya’s smile, so it’s a wonder that he actually gets down the steps without falling or hurting himself some other way. 

The last streaks of orange have faded from the sky, leaving the deepening purple that always comes before twilight. Shizuo can’t help but stare as he takes the route back to his own dorm, amazed that the sky can still change color even when the sun has already disappeared. That thought goes into a whole other tangent, with theories that without the sun the sky returns to the darker side of the color spectrum, and he’s so lost in these kinds of thoughts that he doesn’t hear the voice that slithers into his head at first until even the sound of crickets blurs to white noise in his ears.

 _Ichi_.

Shizuo screeches to a halt, previous lightheartedness fading to cold dread as he chances a look behind him even though he knows there’s no one there. The ice in his blood doesn’t fade as he takes a couple more steps forward.

 _Ichi_.

The voice enters his mind again, this time with a dull ache in his temples and a slight blur of his vision. He stops walking and blinks until the road in front of him is back into focus. Only then does he ask, “One what?”

It sends the voice in his head into hysterical spirals, repeating that word over and over again, growing in volume until Shizuo is no longer sure if he’s hearing things inside his head or with his ears. As if to prove his point, the voice screeches _one_  again and sends a flash of pain through his head. 

Shizuo’s hands fly to his temples as he fights the urge to keel over, and a high-pitched whine builds in his ears until it’s the only thing he can hear. His head’s pounding, there’s something screaming inside his head, it hurts, everything hurts...

Suddenly Shizuo opens his eyes and sucks in a breath with a gasp. The pain is gone just as fast it came, and the only reminder that it even existed is the dull throb in his temple growing smaller and smaller with every second until it, too, no longer exists. 

He’s standing in the middle of the quad, alone with Raijin’s main building behind him and facing the court, absolute silence surrounding him except for the lullabies of cicadas and crickets and the hoots of owls somewhere off to his distant right, with no proof that anything of the last minute happened except in his memory and the feeling in his gut that tells him something is very, very wrong. 

_What’s going on?_

 

 

The next day, Shizuo wakes up with the hyperawareness of someone in a war zone, with Izaya’s name on his lips, from yet another nightmare of Izaya turning to dust in his arms. And despite all his efforts to convince himself that it was just a dream, that the real Izaya is alive, he can’t shake the sense of wrong that’s curling around the base of his stomach. 

Seeing Izaya with his own eyes eases his fears, but only a little. With the dream of Izaya disintegrating in front of him too fresh in his mind, now every glance at the boy he loves is difficult.

Izaya smiles and laughs like he usually does, but Shizuo knows that he’s worried- in the way that he sits with him at lunch and doesn’t say anything, pressing their knees and shoulders together, and in the way that Izaya hides with him in the library after school ends, cramped in a little corner and pretending to untangle Shizuo’s hair.

Izaya’s the one to walk him back to his dorm tonight, even going so far as to come in and sit with him on the bed. “Did something happen last night?”

Shizuo thinks about telling him, at first. Then the memory of voices inside his head returns and he banishes that thought far, far away; he doesn’t know if that will happen to someone he tells about this entire situation, but he’s not willing to take chances. So he tells him, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Izaya doesn’t look like he believes him, but he doesn’t call him out on the lie. He stays put for another moment, knee against Shizuo’s, and then he gets up. Shizuo pushes down the urge to ask him to stay, to take Izaya’s hand to ground himself. “Feel better tomorrow, okay, protozoan?”

Even the old nickname doesn’t make him scowl like he used to, so he bids Izaya goodbye in the most genuine frown he can manage and a “Get back to your dorm safe” like that will protect him from whatever it is planning to tear Izaya away from him.  

However, over the course of the next three days as he tries to fit the pieces of his mental puzzle together, Shizuo becomes convinced that that is exactly what the universe is trying to do. 

He’s convinced because he’s had to save Izaya three times so far.

The first time, they were walking with each other down the hallway during passing period. They were about to pass the math classroom with angry shouts coming from inside that sounded like they were coming from both the teacher and a student.

Izaya had smirked a little. “Guess Sugiyama-san finally got fed up with Hokama-kun, huh.”

”Guess so.” Shizuo had squinted at him. “You did something to his homework, didn’t you?”

”Shizu-chan! I would never stoop so low!”

They had almost crossed the doorway when the shouts increased in volume. Shizuo had caught a blur of movement in his peripheral and had yanked Izaya back in time to avoid a chair thrown out of the classroom. It had collided against the wall, effectively stopping the conversations of everyone who was in the hallway. 

Izaya had looked surprised, but not shaken. He had even laughed it off as they resumed walking after watching Hokama storm out of the classroom. “Saving me from being brained by a chair by an inch, Shizu-chan, how chivalrous of you.”

Under normal circumstances, he would have protested the use of _chivalrous_  and claim that Izaya was exaggerating, how could you possibly know it was an inch? With circumstances being what they were, though, he had just grumbled, “Shut up,” and threatened to tickle him into silence until Izaya stopped introducing him to everyone as “my knight in shining school uniform.”

Izaya may not have been shaken, but Shizuo was, even if he convinced himself it was an accident.

The second time was when Shinra had pulled them out of last period in order to help him buy groceries to make Celtic ramen. 

“Do you even know how to make ramen, Shinra?” Shizuo has groaned as he let Shinra tug both him and Izaya by their sleeve cuffs out of Raijin and onto the street. “Because if you pulled us out only to make something that’ll poison your imaginary girlfriend, I swear-”

”Whoa! One, my darling Celty is the furthest thing from imaginary, and you’re only saying that because you’re jealous of me”- here Shizuo and Izaya had made eye contact and snorted- “and two, Shizuo-kun, how dare you assume that my cooking poisons people!”

”Well, with _your_  family-”

”Shut up, Orihara-kun.”

”Just saying~”

Thankfully, Shinra did know what he was doing, and it had taken them less than forty-five minutes to get the groceries they needed. Shizuo had half a mind to go back to school, but Shinra had stated that no, he needed to drop these off at his dad’s apartment before Celty got home from going out for a ride. 

They had been waiting for a stoplight when Shinra began to get antsy and hopped from one foot to the other before heaving a sigh and just walking across the crosswalk.

”Shinra, there’s a stoplight for a rea- hey, Shinra!” 

Izaya had thrown up his hands and went after Shinra, but neither of them noticed the car swerving from side to side approaching them. For his part, Shizuo hadn’t seen it until it crashed into the curb and only then did he realize that it was headed straight for Izaya.

The flea himself was already halfway across the crosswalk; this happened to be one of the extremely long crosswalks, and Shizuo had already knew he wouldn’t make it in time, so he had yelled Izaya’s name as loud as he could. 

It hadn’t taken Izaya more than a second to notice the car and leap out of the way, launching himself towards the sidewalk and unintentionally colliding with Shinra.

Shizuo had raced across the crosswalk then, not stopping until he dropped to his knees beside Izaya, grabbing his shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

Izaya’s eyes had been blown wide as he shook his head, his face considerably paler than normal. And while Shinra was collecting his spilled groceries and bemoaning the dented tomatoes, Shizuo had pulled Izaya close until the younger boy’s head was tucked underneath his chin and just held him, even when the owner of the car rolled down his window and yelled drunkenly for them to watch where they were going. Izaya’s hands had fisted in his shirt tightly, and his frame quivered in his arms, but he was alive and that was all Shizuo cared about. 

The last time, and most terrifying time in Shizuo’s opinion, was when they were eating lunch together.

They were sitting in their usual place, on the field, with Izaya’s knee pressed against Shizuo’s own as he recounted the most recent book he had been reading while stealing bits of Shizuo’s tuna. 

“... and then that’s why Sensei didn’t want the narrator to tell his wife anything,” he had finished excitedly, “because he was taken responsibility for his actions, and so he kept visiting K’s grave because he thinks he’s atoning for K’s suicide. It’s interesting the way life goes, that sometimes you follow someone else’s path even when you think it’ll be different.”

”That’s... wow,” Shizuo had said, because that was really a depressing story and because Izaya’s last statement had been really dark. “What do you think happens to the student?”

”Mm.” Izaya had tilted his head to the side. “I think he did as Sensei asked him to. He respected him too much to do otherwise, I think, though I won’t be surprised if he died the same way Sensei did.”

”Huh.” Shizuo’s train of thought had broken when Izaya stole yet another piece of tuna. “Oi, that’s my tuna.”

”Oh really? Didn’t notice.”

”Ha.”

Izaya had stuck his tongue out at him and popped the tuna in his mouth to prove a point. What point, Shizuo didn’t know as he rolled his eyes and stared into the sky. He had only turned around when retching noises suddenly came from beside him. “Izaya?”

Izaya’s hands were around his throat, his mouth was open in a silent scream and continuing to make retching noises, and his eyes had been staring wildly in Shizuo’s own for a silent cry for help. 

“Izaya!”

A crowd of students had gathered around them, some pointing at Izaya with scared expressions while others ran off to warn a teacher, and by the time Shizuo broke through the crowd, Izaya had already been taken to the nurse’s office. 

They had released him a half hour later with a water bottle in his hand, informing Shizuo that he would be fine as if he hadn’t spent the last half hour agonizing outside the nurse’s office, running his hands through his hair, and praying to whatever god was out there that Izaya wouldn’t die. It had taken all his strength to not hug Izaya when he walked out, pale but alive.

That had been earlier today.

Shizuo sighs and runs his hands through his hair, trying to think. As far as he knows, it’s not anything Izaya’s done to earn the anger of the universe; he’s literally spend eighty percent of his time with him for the past week and a half, and he hasn’t done anything. If it’s not that, then Shizuo guesses that it’s his mission- his mission to save Izaya. 

He still has no idea what he’s saving Izaya from, but apparently whatever progress he’s made isn’t enough for whatever threw him back in time the first time around. 

The end of another sigh ends on a growl of frustration as he sits back and taps a pencil against his forehead. Three times. Three times Izaya was almost killed, and three times Shizuo had saved him. _Why does everything stop at number three?_

Heck if he knows, but it’s probably got something to do with _one_.

And it always comes back to that: one.

It’s most likely supposed to mean one timeline; maybe this is the only timeline he’s supposed to stay in _without_ Izaya, and that’s why Izaya’s has so many near-death experiences lately.

It could also be about Izaya, that the universe is trying to teach him to value the one and only Orihara Izaya through almost killing him.

There’s one more option lingering in the back of his mind, but that he doesn’t like considering, and it is _one chance_. In all the books and superhero comics he’s read, the main character almost always has only one chance to save the world, or whatever else it is that they’re supposed to do. It would explain why the universe has been so antagonistic towards him ever since he had inserted himself into another timeline.

And the reason Shizuo doesn’t like considering this option is because it might actually explain everything. It’s because if he breaks down this option, it fills in all the holes in his mind that the other ones don’t. It’s because it means that, according to whatever sent him back here, he’s failed the mission- he’s failed Izaya- and that scares him. He’s not ready to lose Izaya to anyone or anything, least of all himself. 

Ah, screw this.

In an instant, Shizuo’s pushed back his chair and out the door, desperation fueling every move he makes. He needs to see Izaya, he has to warn him even if it breaks him, even if it means Izaya will never let him, or anyone else, get this close again.

Shizuo can live with Izaya hating him; he cannot live with Izaya dead.

That thoughts has him practically flying down the stairs, past the few Raijin students up past curfew who stare after him and yell his name. None of it matters- not the fact that he tripped on his way down the last flight of stairs and may or may not be running on a twisted ankle, not the fact that he can barely see where he’s going. None of it matters as much as getting to Izaya in time, because who knows what the universe might be up to now that Shizuo’s figured it out?

As soon as he gets to Izaya’s dorm, he bangs against the door until “I’m coming, I’m coming!” comes from inside. He’s begun talking even before the door opens. “IzayaIreallyneedtotalktoyouandyou’reprobablynotgoingtobelieveawordIsay-”

”Shizuo-kun?” Shinra blinks at him, and the thought of _oh yeah, he’s Izaya’s roommate_  has barely sprung up in his mind when full-blown panic seizes him by the throat again. “Izaya. Where is he?”

”Huh? Orihara-kun?”

”Yes, yes, where is he? Have you seen him?”

”Well, yeah-”

”Shinra, spill. Now.”

”Okay, okay, he said he forgot his book on the field and went to go get it. What’s this about?”

”Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo whirls around. Izaya’s standing there, holding his book, with a confused look that has Shizuo feeling calmed yet agitated at the same time. “Izaya, do you trust me?”

”Yeah, but... what’s this about?”

”I need to tell you something, and you’re probably not going to believe me, but it’s really, really important.”

 “... Okay?”

”Do you remember, when we first talked on the field when I asked you to be my friend, that I said I knew you?”

“That was only about two weeks ago, of course I remember. What does that have to do-”

”I’m from the future.” Izaya stops talking. “I don’t really know how I got here, and it’s a really long story, but I got thrown back in time- twice- because I had to save you. You remember I said I knew you, right? Well, I do. I know you have two sisters, I know you like fatty tuna. That was why I let you steal my tuna earlier today. I know you like books about people, that’s why you were reading that book by that Russian guy. You’re afraid of dogs, you hate the eyes of dead fish. You’re a light sleeper, and you’re-”

Izaya slaps him. 

For few moments, the only sound there is, is Izaya’s heavy breathing. Shizuo presses a hand to his throbbing cheek, barely noticing Shinra in the background looking back and forth between them as he watches Izaya, unable to make out Izaya’s expression covered by his hair. 

When Izaya does speak, it’s with a tight voice, one that Shizuo recognizes as being furious or close to tears. “Either you’ve paid off someone at this school to talk about me, or you’ve been stalking me. Either way, we’re done, Shizuo.”

Izaya turns on his heel and starts off towards the stairs before breaking into a run; Shizuo stops for a split second, heart dropping to his toes, before he runs after him. “Izaya! Wait!”

Izaya’s just gotten down the bottom of the stairs when Shizuo catches up to him, grabbing his arm. “Izaya-”

”How stupid do you think I am?!” Izaya yells, yanking his arm away. “You think I’m gonna believe that? Time travel, you’re from the future, are you telling me that’s possible now?! Every last part of that is bull!”

”Izaya, you’re not stupid! Never once have I ever thought you were stupid! Please, you have to-”

”Trust you?” Izaya throws back at him, clutching his book to his chest. “Why should I trust you when you’ve been stalking me for however long you have?! Or something like that! Did you pay someone off? You totally did, didn’t you. Paid them off for information and get close to me so everyone knows that I’m human, is that it?!”

”No!” Shizuo finally manages to grab Izaya’s arm, hating the way Izaya already draws away from him with hurt eyes and hating himself more for being the cause of it. “I asked you to be my friend because I wanted to, not because I wanted to hurt you. And in case you haven’t noticed, probably like half of this school is scared to talk to me because they’ve seen me uproot a pole! Why would anyone talk to someone who’s strong enough to uproot a pole, or even bribe me with information?!” 

Izaya shuts his eyes, and Shizuo breaks off. _I never wanted to hurt you, Izaya, believe me, please_. “I love you, Izaya. I love you because I got to know you and not because someone paid me x amount of cash just to say it to you.”

”Liar.” Izaya opens his eyes again, and it breaks Shizuo’s heart to see the anger reflected in them. “Everything about this is a lie!”

He jerks his arm away and turns away, running in the opposite direction. 

Shizuo swears and slams his fist into the ground, the crater he’s created bringing him no satisfaction whatsoever. A hand lands on his shoulder; it’s Shinra, who looks like he can’t decide between being angry with him for hurting his best friend or feeling sorry for him because what’s just happened. “Come on,” he just says, looking at the dorm. “We’ll talk about it in there.”

Shizuo just nods dumbly, and lets Shinra help him up.

As soon as he bothers to raise his head, though, his blood turns to ice; Izaya’s figure is still visible from here as he runs, but barely since he’s wearing dark clothing. Which means the car now driving past Shizuo doesn’t see him. Which means that Izaya has no idea that the car’s headed his way, and that he might actually die this time.

 _No_.

Shizuo jerks away from Shinra, ignoring his startled cry as he races after Izaya. He runs as fast as he can, but Izaya seems to get further away the faster he tries to run, and he’s barely just passed the car, there’s no possible way he’ll reach him in time. “Izaya!”

Izaya’s still running, and the car’s still going. Shizuo slips on the cement, curses out loud as he picks himself up and _runs_.

 

_Your roots are showing, Shizu-chan._

_Why the hell do you care?_

_Ah, forgive me. I forgot protozoan monsters like walking around with discolored hair._

 

_Are you an idiot?_

_I guess that’s a good explanation as any, then, for being friends._

 

_So what plagues your mind today, protozoan?_

_This damn worksheet._

 

_If I didn’t know better, Shizu-chan, I’d say you were in love with me._

_What would you say if I was?_

_That you truly are a protozoan._

 

_Did you mean what you said before I fell asleep?_

_Yes._

_For how long?_

_For every lifetime I’ve known you_.

 

 _I love you_ , Shizuo thinks desperately, like that will help him reach Izaya in time. _I love you, I love you, I’ve always loved you_. Izaya’s so close now- so, so close. _I love you and I need you to live_. “Izaya, watch out!”

Izaya turns, sees the car; the fear that drains the color from his face, that freezes him in the middle of the road has Shizuo running as fast as he can handle, chest burning from exertion and the fear that he won’t make it, but by _God_  he _will_  make it. He _will_  make it, even as the car’s catching up to him, because he loves Izaya, and isn’t the greatest love of all to lay down your life for someone else’s?

” _IZAYA!”_

By some miracle, that cry alone gives Shizuo the extra push, the extra energy needed to cross the road and push Izaya out of the way. And in the split second between touching Izaya and being blinded by the headlights, he stares into Izaya’s horrified expression with only a single thought in his mind.

 _I love you_. 

The car smashes into his ribs not two seconds after he propels Izaya to the other side of the road safe, sending him airborne for at least seven feet. He hits the ground, and soon as his head slams against the ground, everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Izaya tells Shizuo about is Kokoro, by Natsume Souseki. It’s a really good read, I recommend you guys check it out if you want to.
> 
> “The greatest love is to lay down your life for your brother” is from the Bible.


	12. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo scrunches his nose in confusion. This Izaya must have been important to him if Shinra was that surprised he doesn’t remember, but he can’t understand for the life of him why both of the other people in the room need him to remember so bad. At least, not until Shinra holds a photo in his face.
> 
> Dark hair, brown eyes. Black coat.
> 
> And it all hits him like a bullet train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re at the end. Thank you for everyone who’s stuck with this story from beginning to finish. You’ve all been so great, and I’ll miss you.

“... _need to be careful.”_

 

 

_”... need to keep him stabilized, or he may never recover...”_

 

 

_”... any words he might want to hear, anyone he might want to see...”_

 

 

_”... has to be his choice.”_

 

 

_Shizuo is in an ocean, and he sinks below the waves. His breath comes out in bubbles, popping in a rhythm. The sunlight dims and brightens._

 

 

 

 

_”Shizuo-kun, please wake up.”_

 

 

_”My boy, my precious boy...”_

 

 

_”Nii-san...”_

 

 

_”... Shizu-chan....”_

 

 

_”... Wake up...”_

 

 

_Shizuo lies in a field, with the sun on his face and the wind- voices- in his ears. He shuts his eyes, and falls._

 

 

 

 

 

Shizuo’s eyes flutter open, blissful warmth slipping away from his body, and sucks in a small breath. The cold oxygen passing through his nose, so different from the stagnant air pressing against his arms, surprises him at first. Only when he attempts to move his head does he notice the heart monitor, the oxygen concentrator next to him, an IV in his arm, and a clip thing on his finger.

First, he’s confused- he feels fine, just kind of like he’s moving through water- but the equipment attached to him makes more sense in the seconds afterwards. Bits and pieces come back to him; they’re more or less foggy memories with blank spots where faces would be, but he thinks he can guess what happened. 

The door opens, then, and someone he guesses is the doctor walks in with Shinra. His classmate looks pale, the annoyingly bright smile that used to be on his face all but gone. The circles under his eyes look a lot darker than they used to, and Shizuo has seen Shinra pull three all-nighters in a row. His eyes are dim, but they brighten once they land on him and Shinra practically flies to his side. “Shizuo-kun, if you weren’t in a hospital bed I’d slap you right now for scaring the living daylights out of me! How are you feeling?”

”Um...” That’s a good question. “Good, I guess. I don’t really feel anything.”

”That would be the morphine,” Shinra says at the same time the doctor tells him to move back, so that he can take his place. “Welcome back, Heiwajima-san. Have you just woken up?”

The name tag reads _Sakaguchi_. Shizuo looks at the way the sun bounces off the silver tag as he answers. “Yeah, right before you guys came in.”

”I see.” Dr. Sakaguchi’s face seems to relax as he jots that down. Maybe because Shizuo had gotten rest? “Heiwajima-san, do you remember what happened to you?”

”I got hit by a car.” 

Another pause. The pencil scratches on paper both get on Shizuo’s nerves and soothe them. “And do you remember what happened before that? What caused the car to hit you?”

”I...” He does, but in bits and pieces. Like headlights, panic, and yelling something. Or someone. But he can’t give the doctor a half-answer, he knows that much. “Not really.”

”Shizuo-kun.” Shinra looks concerned. “You were pushing Orihara-kun out of the way, and... the car hit you instead. Do you really not remember that?”

No, he does, at least not anything in that sentence, but there’s a word that does strike as familiar. “Orihara-kun?”

The doctor’s attention flits between them in the background, but all Shizuo can focus on is the way Shinra seems to go from concerned to downright horrified. “Orihara-kun. Orihara Izaya. Your friend. Your...” Shinra’s eyes drift to Sakaguchi-sensei and swallows whatever he was about to say. “Orihara Izaya. That’s him. C’mon, Shizuo-kun, there’s gotta be something in there.”

Orihara Izaya. Shizuo tries the name in his head. Orihara Izaya. Izaya. It sounds right. The name brings images of dark hair and a sunset and books to mind, and it feels right. “Izaya?”

”Kishitani-san,” the doctor breaks in, “do you have anything that belongs to this Orihara? It might jog his memory.”

”Not his belongings, but...”

Shizuo scrunches his nose in confusion. This Izaya must have been important to him if Shinra was that surprised he doesn’t remember, but he can’t understand for the life of him why both of the other people in the room need him to remember so bad. At least, not until Shinra holds a photo in his face.

Dark hair, brown eyes. Black coat.

And it all hits him like a bullet train.

Shizuo’s breath catches. 

“Where is he?”

Shinra sags in relief, but now he’s the one who looks confused. “Eh? What?”

”Izaya.” The heart monitor’s picked up on his rising desperation, and the beeps get louder and faster. “I need to see him. Where is he. Where is he?!”

“Shizuo-kun-”

”Where is he, Shinra? Tell me. Tell me!”

”He’s gone!” Shinra’s yell shuts him up, and only then does his words sink in. “He’s gone? Wait, what do you-”

”He’s gone.” Shinra runs his hands through his hair, and for the first time ever he looks like he’s about to cry. “Shizuo-kun, that accident... the accident was four years ago. You’ve been in a coma for four years.”

”Kishitani-san, you need to tell him slowly-”

“Four years, Shizuo! Four years, your body kept getting better and then getting worse. Your health turned on and off like a faucet, and nobody knew whether or not you were going to make it. And Orihara-kun, when he found out... he couldn’t take it and just... he just...”

Shinra trails off and presses his hands to his face. The doctor gets out of his seat, says he’ll come back later, and quietly guides Shinra to the door. 

They leave Shizuo to his thoughts, but truthfully there’s not much to think about. 

His mom and Kasuka burst in shortly after, the former with a tear stained face and the latter looked haunted for the first time Shizuo remembers. His mother cradles his face with shaking hands as she visibly tries to keep herself from crying, until she does it anyway in the middle of asking if he’s hungry. Kasuka holds onto his hand like he used to do and just presses his face into his arm. For Shizuo himself, he runs a hand through his brother’s hair and gently tells his mother that no, he’s not hungry but yes, he wants her to make anything she wants for him. 

He’s missed this, missed them, but already the interactions feel hollow. Already he feels like he’s watching everything happen through a window, watching his own body mechanically respond appropriately.

This is probably what people mean when they say they go into shock, that one piece of news could flip their lives on their heads and shut them down. He’s not completely detached; he’s dizzy from catching up on everything he’s missed, his ribs hurt a little, and if he concentrates enough he can feel the sharp ache in his chest that his consciousness is working so hard to protect him from. 

Shizuo feels numb anyway, and the reason why is something he’ll carry to his grave.

 

 

_I didn’t change anything. He’s still gone, still dead._

 

 

 _I couldn’t save him_.

 

 

The days after that are blurs. Shizuo’s injuries had healed during his coma, so there wasn’t much fuss about that, but Sakaguchi-sensei still warns him to be careful since even four years wasn’t enough to completely heal his ribs. He even shows him how to wrap the rib brace around him; it’s a little tight at first, but it’s nothing Shizuo can’t handle.

He still has to take medication for his lung, though. When the car hit him, one of his broken ribs had punctured his lung badly- not to the point where he needs a transplant, but enough so that his lungs literally cannot function without the medication. The doctor hopes that in a few years, the lung will start learning how to function on its own without the medication, but they’ll have to wait and see. Shizuo tries to breathe on his own, at first when no one’s in the room, but even sucking in air hurts like crazy, and he doesn’t do it again. 

All in all, his overall diagnosis is pretty simple: his body’s almost done healing, if not completely, but the pain that stems from most of the injuries is inside his head. Psychosomatic, Sakaguchi-sensei says, because since he was only conscious for the car to ram into him, his mind tried to rationalize the situation out by creating phantom aches to keep his shock level low. Which means his leg and ribs are mostly fine, but he still needs crutches to stabilize himself psychologically and physically, and then maybe later he can start walking without them. 

When the doctor gestures for him to try the crutches, Shizuo’s a little surprised by how steady he is, even if he doesn’t know how to take more than two shaky steps before he crumples, and he thanks whatever god is out there that his body was in good health before the accident. 

Sakaguchi-sensei asks if he wants to be referred to a rehab center to relearn how to walk, and his mother steps in with a firm no. She insists he’ll learn how to walk better at home, where he’s surrounded by people he knows and trusts, and that they’ll let a professional step in if he really can’t do it. 

Kasuka’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder for the whole time, and it clenches slightly at the word “walking.” Shizuo looks up and offers his brother a half smile, but he’s thankful for his mother’s decision- he does not have the willpower and energy to deal with strangers right now. 

Not when he knows he’ll be looking for that person in a sea of thousands, searching for someone who’s already gone. He can’t do it.

He’s released from the hospital the next day, still in his hospital gown with nothing but his crutches, his brace, and lung medication.

There’s a small party thrown for him that night, arranged by none other than Shinra and his mother in secret. Shizuo finally gets to meet Celty, who’s as gentle as he remembers and just as embarrassed when Shinra throws an arm around her and tries to kiss her on the helmet. Tom’s there too, hair down, and Shizuo half-expects him to offer him a job right there; he does get Tom’s business card later, though. 

The food is delicious as always. There’s curry, milkshakes, broiled fish, and some other dishes that he didn’t expect his mother to make. The thought of her experimenting around with food just to try some while he was unconscious, to make for him in case he woke up, brings a smile to his face, and laughs and jokes with Tom, Celty, and his neighbors come easier.

Then his mother pulls him aside to show him a special dish she’s made for him because he thought he’d like it; it’s a plate of sushi, and it looks like any other sushi. It looks nice, though, with the little flower she made out of ginger on the side, and so he accepts one and eats it. 

As soon as the flavor hits his tongue, something in his chest _aches_.

It’s fatty tuna.

And as he looks at his mom, smiling at him with love, Izaya’s smile flashes in his mind’s eye and something in him shatters. The tears are rolling before he can stop them, and even as he tries to stop them by wiping them away, he only cries harder.

Naturally, it scares his mom, who quickly sets down the plate and pulls him in. She still smells like _sakura_. “Shizuo, my boy, what is it? What’s wrong? Does it taste bad, do you not like tuna?”

”It’s okay,” he reassures her between sobs that he tries to keep quiet, though he’s not sure how convincing he sounds. “ _Ka-san_ , it’s just... it’s just so good.”

Then the floodgates open and his head falls onto his mother’s shoulder and his hands cling onto her apron as he just cries. For the sushi, for the years that must have been so difficult, for the fact that he’s alive and here with the people he cares about, and most of all, for Izaya and the fact that he is not. 

He misses Izaya _so, so much_.

His mother doesn’t say anything. She just lets him cry it out and rubs his back with one hand, combing through his hair with another and switches between murmuring “It’s okay, my son, it’s okay” and humming the lullaby she used to since whenever he cried as a child. 

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. They don’t go back to the party for a while, but when they do, Shizuo plays it like nothing’s wrong, says that he’s just happy to be back because it’s the truth.

It’s just not the whole truth. 

 

 

 

It happens one day one day when Shizuo feels more tired than usual. He’s spent about half the day trying to walk on his crutches, with Kasuka beside him, and though he’s making progress one step at a time, it’s still really tiring. He’s managed four to five steps without shaking on the crutches, but even that has sweat pouring down his forehead in what feels like buckets. 

So he asks his mother if he can shower and rest a little, and she says yes. In an hour, he’s on his bed, dressed into his pajamas, and fast asleep. 

When he wakes up again, the first thing he notices is the sunlight- a light orange. He doesn’t know how long he’s slept, but he bets that it’s sometime in the middle of the afternoon, maybe three o’ clock or so. 

He turns on his pillow, closing his eyes for half a second more, before he opens them with the intention to get off his bed and try walking again. And then he freezes.

The sunlight behind Orihara Izaya calls back to a memory from four years ago, to a sunset the color of fire and quiet confessions left out in the open. And that person at eighteen looks different- age has thinned his face, making his eyes sharper, and he’s dressed in the black coat Shizuo used to hate. But as Izaya finds his eyes and smiles, the bridge of four years and an accident disappears and slowly, slowly Shizuo can feel life sliding into the right places once more.

And yet he cannot believe it still. “Izaya,” he says breathlessly, a smile already tugging up the corners of his mouth. 

“Hi, Shizu-chan,” Izaya responds, equally breathless, and there is no doubt that he is here.

Shizuo sits up carefully, to avoid jostling his ribs or his leg, now noticing the way their hands are connected. He smiles. “The way Shinra said it...”

Izaya’s smile turns a bit sardonic, and he rolls his eyes. “He does have a tendency for dramatics, but I gave him enough crap about it to last him a lifetime. Celty-san did too. He’s not getting any hugs from her tonight.”

Shizuo thinks about it, pictures Shinra running around his apartment using flowery language to get Celty to hug him, and snorts. ”Did you kick him?”

”Thought about it. Then I thought I’d leave that for you instead.”

They both laugh, but silence overtakes them quickly. Izaya breaks the gaze to look at their entwined hands, his smile fading a little. “Shizuo, the things I said before... before...”

”Nothing’s changed.” It’s true. How else can Shizuo explain the nights when the longing for Izaya became too much, and he longed for something, anything, to forget just for a night? How else can he explain the unadulterated joy that flooded through him only a few minutes ago when he realized Izaya was alive? He tries to convey his sincerity by pressing his palm firmer against Izaya’s. “You are still the most important person in my life. I still love you as much as I did four years ago.”

”I know.” Izaya looks at him once, and then ducks his head-  _Is he embarrassed?_ \- and mutters something inaudible.

”What?”

”I said, me too.” Izaya looks back at him, and his eyes are shining. “It took me a while to understand it all, but... I love you too.”

Let it never be said that Shizuo isn’t affected. Let it never be said that hearing those words from the love of his life doesn’t make his heart skip a beat, as he loses his breath with how happy he is. Shizuo has always been better at showing rather than telling, and so he shows Izaya how much the confession means to him. 

He leans forward, hoping that neither of them will regret want he’s about to do. It’s the most cliché thing he’s ever done, and so he isn’t surprised when Izaya’s eyes widen in surprise. He isn’t surprised that Izaya looks like he’s about to laugh at him, and he’s not surprised to hear Izaya mutter, “You closet romantic” as soon as he closes his eyes. 

He _is_ surprised when Izaya meets him in the middle, lips slotting together like lost puzzle pieces that have finally found their way back to the board. It’s everything Shizuo’s ever expected his first kiss to be and more- soft, warm, _safe_ , the feeling that there’s nothing else quite like it in the world- and in the span of two seconds, he falls in love with Izaya all over again. 

They pull away after a few heartbeats, both of them laughing from nerves and genuine happiness. And because Shizuo has a tendency to say stupid things, he says, “Go on a date with me.” 

“...”

”When I start walking normally again, I’ll... I’ll take you to Russia Sushi. Then maybe we can find that book you wanted me to read so much.”

He doesn’t expect Izaya to bend over laughing; then again, everything Izaya does is unexpected.

When Izaya finally stops, there’s a softness in his eyes that Shizuo finds he’s missed, and a grace to his smile that renders him more beautiful than any sunset the sky could ever produce. “Took you long enough, Shizu-chan.”

And despite himself, Shizuo laughs too. And as Izaya pulls him in again, the world makes sense again.


End file.
